Lateralus
by lionessXofXdreams
Summary: Within the first few days of being in Beacon Hills, Dinah manages to involve herself with the two boys who initiate a whirlwind of supernatural disasters upon the town. Now she's thrown into the fray and chooses to protect it with them. How paradigm-shattering to learn that her world was so much bigger than she could've ever dreamed. The thought alone terrifies her completely.
1. Black, then white are

**A/N This is a newer fanfic of mine. It _is_ another character study of my own character, but I will also be studying the story, so it will be interesting to see where this goes. **

**I chose to title this story "Lateralus" because of the song "Lateralis" by Tool. I highly recommend listening to it at some point in your life because it is one of their best songs and my personal favorite. **

**The meaning of the song is left to interpretation. It could mean to open up one's mind to the events that come and accept them as they happen, but it could be interpreted as there is a piece of god inside all of us, which is a more abstract interpretation, but works for this story. You'll see why later.**

**I'll be posting the chapters on a mostly weekly basis. I'll try _really_ hard to post the chapters on time.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OC and ****only**** my OC. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine. Duh.**

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Prologue

Reality is erratic. Volatile. It _shifts_. It is a collection of perspectives and perceptions that are either imposed upon the mind or are conditioned into a set way of thinking. Rare is the being that is able to see into _true_ reality.

True reality is a set of metaphors that only few can interpret. It is not an altered set of thinking different from all the rest. It just _is_. It is a state of being. A state in which all things happen, yet few can see it.

True reality is energy that undulates through time and all its concepts. It is not something that can be measured. It just _is. _It is a state of being. A state of being in which the breath of life is omnipresent, yet few can feel it.

True reality is ever changing before it is set in stone. The future is indeterminable. It is infinite. It lives in every moment. In every second of being. It is interlinked with the present, flowing through it and forming as it exists.

True reality, however, has a set state in which it must be. A set of lines that must correspond in a specific order. True reality must exist in an equilibrium so fragile yet so difficult to break.

And there comes a time when that balance is shifted. And reality works to right itself before it falls to pieces; pieces to which Chaos and his destruction must catch to be righted again.

A Denizen is chosen. Is created. In order for true reality to interact with those that do not know it. In order for true reality to physically alter the perceived reality so balance can be restored.

A Denizen is one that can interpret true reality, see true reality, feel true reality. For if it couldn't, how could it do that which it was created to do?

To shift reality?


	2. All I see

**And so, chapter 1. This is an intro to the characters. Mostly Dinah. More interesting stuffs will follow.**

**IMPORTANT: For further questions about pronunciation, her name is pronounced "Dee-nah." I know it looks like "dye-nah," but no, it is pronounced "DEE-NAH." Just throwing this out there.**

**Yes, this is a StilesXOC fic, but it is eventual. Very, very eventual. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OC's and ****only**** my OC's. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine. Duh.**

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1\. All I see

_I need a shower._ Dinah thought to herself. She was dripping sweat and it didn't help that she'd been rolling around in the mud with her brothers. Well, it was more like rolling around in the grass, but it didn't really make much of a difference. She was still gross. Her brothers were grosser, but that was because they were boys and it was practically mandated in male genetics that male sweat should stink.

"One more round," Their father commanded. Dinah sighed, still trying to catch her breath. She leaned over and placed her hands on her hips to find some relief for her aching lungs. She glanced at her brothers to find they were having just as difficult time of it as she was. They were dripping sweat as well, but when one's father pushes one to spar his or her siblings for hours on end to make up for the coming lost time because of school, it should be expected that they all be drenched in sweat. All three had shed their shirts an hour ago because they were drenched and wet clothing slows down the body's movements.

Dinah's intense cerulean eyes met brothers' in turn. They were ready. So was she.

They stepped into the center of their ridiculously large backyard and their bodies undulated tension in preparation for the fight.

Dinah's eldest brother, Reuben, struck first lunging and raising his fist so quickly, her reflexes were triggered, followed closely by her second older brother Joseph, who dipped and aimed a low roundhouse swipe at her legs. She jumped and blocked at the same time. Reuben's strike hit her arm with such strength that it sent her spinning. Mid-air, she shot her leg out and sharply kicked Joseph in the head while grabbing Reuben's outstretched arm. Using the momentum from her kick, she pulled on Reuben's arm while stepping to gain strength to knee her older brother in the head. Hard. Then she pulled his arm around behind his back and kicked him behind the knee, making him fall to his knees.

By then, Joseph had regained his composure and lunged at Dinah, changing tactics. She recognized the Judo stance and readiness in his muscles.

So, Dinah changed tactics.

She let go of Reuben and, before he could move, spun in a dodge that gave her hands momentum to strike the backs of their necks at the precise angle that it would take to knock them unconscious.

And they both went down.

The match lasted less than a minute.

Dinah panted hard. Fighting like that really used up her energy. Not _that_ much; she'd been fighting like that for the past few hours.

But still. She looked at her unconscious brothers.

She'd knocked them both out in under a minute.

At the same time.

There were a few times that Dinah truly frightened herself. This was one of those times. She was getting stronger by the day. And not the natural type of strength, either. Three years ago, she could hold her own against her brothers, but only if they didn't come against her at the same time. Even then, their male superiority, in the physical sense, would be enough to overwhelm her.

But ever since that night, her strength, her _power_, had been increasing exponentially.

And it scared her.

It scared her brothers. Who were now unconscious.

But it didn't scare her father.

As she looked over her shoulder at him, his expression was solemn, but it was approving. He nodded, seemingly proud that his only daughter was becoming so strong.

After two years of sparring with her brothers, it soon became clear that Reuben and Joseph were reaching the apex of their abilities, their strength. But Dinah kept growing. Evolving, really. But it hadn't started until that night three years ago. The night her mother died.

Rachel Hollinger. Wife of Jacob Hollinger. Mother of three: two sons and one daughter. The eldest, Reuben Hollinger, the second, Joseph Hollinger, and the third, Dinah Hollinger. Rachel loved her family with a fervency that outshined other families in subtle ways, but all felt it. She was a passionate and fiery woman with a big, loving heart, and a brave, adventurous countenance.

Rachel was a police officer. And she died in the line of duty. Protecting people was what she was born to do. No one questioned it. She was strong, dexterous, and agile. But not bulletproof. Not like many people had led themselves to believe. Including her own family.

Dinah's father, Jacob, took it the worst. He was a mess for weeks after her death: drinking and smoking again. His children were stronger, and helped him through it. But he was never the same. He rarely smiled, and when he did, it didn't reach his eyes. Instead, he was stricter in his training his children. He would not leave them helpless. He would not have anyone else die. Not in _his_ family.

Reuben carried the family through the ordeal. He grieved, but not at the expense of the family. And when he was done grieving, he cared more passionately for them while his father was still in a funk. Reuben, while he had not gotten over his mother entirely, had accepted her death. Death was a part of life. His mother's just came too early.

Joseph took her death nearly as bad as his father. He shut people out for a long time and started smoking. Dinah was unsure if he drank, but she highly doubted it. While drinking was supposed to drown the sorrows, Joseph didn't have sorrow. He had anxiety. He could deal with sorrow. Anxiety was another matter altogether. He was afraid. Afraid of what? No one in the family knew. But he started getting panic attacks and in return started smoking to calm his nerves. But the Hollingers were strong. He got over most of his anxiety, and rarely ever smoked.

Dinah was different. She was stubborn and defiant. Not toward her family, but toward her situation, the circumstance. She was the first to accept her mother's death, but she was the last to grieve. She was angry. She hated the world for killing off her mother early. It took her two years to grieve her mother. One day, Reuben came home to find their beloved, younger sister writhing on the floor, wailing in agony and despair.

They'd never been so terrified in their lives. To see their strong, confident, powerful sister on the ground in that awful state was something they wished to never see again. And it lasted a week. But only a week. Afterward, they'd learned that Dinah did that purposely. She wanted to grieve her mother in a week like she should have done right after her death. She wanted to move on with her life so that she may continue to grow as a person. But she needed to get that strife out of her system before she could do so.

And her brothers silently agreed to make sure she never had to go through that again. Or at least make sure it happened as little as possible. That much agony was a little much for all of them to handle.

Usually, she was reasonable, pragmatic. Realistic. However, after her mother died, she developed a sensitivity to energy beyond the real world. Or rather, it developed much faster and more deeply than the rest of her family, and it had always been there. Her whole family had it. She refused to acknowledge it for the longest time. But soon, she had no choice. Her perceptive and deductive abilities had grown to incredible amounts, and now she could read people's behavior as if she were reading their minds. She picked up facts and observed far more than a normal person, and she could come to the accurate conclusions in less than a second. She'd never been the best in school, but since the development of her abilities, she got all the right answers.

And her _memory_. She could remember every single fact that she learned, every single experience since she was little. She could recall every little detail of everything that happened to her. She used to have a relatively normal memory, maybe just a little bit stronger than others', but after her mother died, suddenly her mind was a flurry with memories. She had to work to get some of them deleted from her head so that her mind wasn't overwhelmed. And even then, she could still remember those memories. She assumed she didn't delete them, but rather put them in a file cabinet at the back of her mind.

For the longest time, she didn't want to acknowledge these changes; she didn't want them because they reminded her of her mother's untimely demise. But soon, it became too obvious, too big a part of her life that she couldn't ignore it any longer. So she used her newfound abilities.

But it hadn't started until after her mother had died. It was just one of the weird things that manifested. Like her father's paranoia. He was like one of those apocalyptic preppers, except rather than stocking and arming the house, he stocked and armed his children with more than enough martial arts and special ops training for several lifetimes. He had started early with all his children, but it helped that Dinah's and her brothers' sudden perceptive and memory developments allowed for them to learn so much in just a few years time, until finally they moved to Beacon Hills. Where she and Joseph would be starting new in Beacon Hills High School and Reuben would go to the local university.

Her father sold arms to the military from a private company, so he had access to all sorts of weapons. He knew how to use them as well and taught his children to use them. But they were for sale. There were very few weapons they actually owned. But that meant there was quite a lot of travelling and moving. All over the world, too. They had been in New York when Rachel was killed, and then they lived in Japan, then London.

The move to Beacon Hills was sudden. It was short notice and they just moved two weeks ago and the Hollinger siblings were still unpacking. Dinah was the one that got the most done. She needed to keep her mind off things. Things like the move and her startling strength.

Speaking of which.

Dinah bent down near Joseph's head and squeezed the juncture between his neck and shoulder and brushed her fingers along his spine. It may not be the most conventional way to awaken someone from unconsciousness, but it was effective. She watched as her father picked up all the supplies that were necessary to take them back inside. He was leaving Dinah to deal with her brothers.

Joseph groaned and scrunched his brow. Now that he was on his own way to awakening, she moved to Reuben's head and repeated the same process she did to Joseph. It took even less time to awaken him.

She stood and left them to go inside. She wanted first dibs on the shower. The house wasn't small: there were multiple bathrooms, one the siblings were _supposed_ to share, but they often branched out to their father's bathroom in the master bedroom. It was actually a rather spacey, and quite trendy home. Nice, large kitchen with an island that was open and lit leading to the dining room that had a sliding glass door leading to the massive backyard. There was a downstairs half bathroom, stairs leading to the second story where the bedrooms were. The master bedroom had its own bathroom and then there were the three smaller rooms. Dinah and her brothers played extreme rock-paper-scissors in competition for the second largest bedroom, and Dinah won, with Reuben getting the third largest, and Joseph getting the smallest.

Dinah painted her room a warm, pastel peach that lit up her room in the daytime and kept it cozy warm without getting hot. Reuben and Joseph both painted their rooms different shades of blue.

When Dinah reached her peach colored room she grabbed her pajamas as fast as she could before booking it to the bathroom. She would need a long, hot shower to work the tension from her body. School started tomorrow, and she needed to be as relaxed as possible. She knew that sparring the evening before school the next day would be a bad idea. But she couldn't disobey her father. That was a far worse idea.

She hurried to get in the bathroom so that she could shower right away. Her brothers wouldn't appreciate her taking a long shower when they were just as, if not more, sweaty and dirty as she was.

When she was finished with her fifteen minute shower, she opened the door to find Joseph leaning against the wall. They nodded tiredly at each other as she passed.

After tossing her dirty clothes in the hamper, she collapsed on her bed. She needed sleep if she was going to deal with school. Dinah rolled over on her bed and shifted her thoughts shifted. It would be normal American school as far as she was concerned, but it would be different. She just spent the last three years abroad and in countries that had _entirely_ different systems for education. It would take a little while to assimilate to normal American society. In the meantime, she had an experiment that she needed to finish. Her first mission for the first day of school was to find a confidant. Maybe two. She needed independent variables that could know her truth to see how they affected the school body and how they reacted to the rumors.

And then, she would start rumors about herself.

She sighed, already exhausted. Doubly exhausted. Teenagers just _loved _drama and Dinah hated that she was bring that upon herself. But then again, she _was_ bringing it upon herself so she had no right to complain.

She adjusted herself on her bed and crawled under the covers, ready for a good night's rest. It didn't take long for her to drift into a deep sleep.

**So? How was it? Please review. I'll finish the second chapter shortly so don't get too impatient. ;p **

**Anyway, I truly hope you enjoy it. **

**Till next time!**


	3. In My Infancy

**I am so incredibly sorry for not finishing this until now. I said I would finish it shortly and I have no excuse. While I did have school and finals, I still should have set more time aside to finish writing this. Fortunately I did think to write manually while on the bus and that helped the burden greatly. **

**And so, to make it up to you, I have an extremely long chapter. I think this is the most I've written for a story consecutively in a long time. **

**I'd like to thank my reviewers and followers for their support. You guy have no idea how much I appreciate it. And yes, I came up with the prologue on my own. ;P**

**Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OC's and ****only**** my OC's. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine. Duh.**

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2\. In My Infancy

The lyrics to "I'm A Barbie Girl" blasted through Dinah's subconscious and she was rudely awoken. Her eyes flew open and she gasped. She was dreaming and the song startled her. She sighed as the song chased away the remnants of what she was sure had been a good dream. She grabbed the phone moodily and turned off the damn alarm.

One of her brother's probably thought it would be funny to wake her up earlier than necessary to get ready for school. It was just after six in the morning. She figured that she could take an extra long shower and run all the hot water as payback. There was no way she was going back to sleep at that point.

She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed and started her prep for the day. It started with picking out her outfit: light blue, hip-hugging, flare jeans, a light plum colored long sleeve shirt that showed a centimeter of her midriff, a women's, black tux vest left unbuttoned, and beige toms. She didn't know how to tie it together yet, but she'd figure it out later. She took the clothes with her to the bathroom so she could change in there while it was still warm.

Her shower was about medium in length. She reveled in the heat of the water while lathering her body down so it was thoroughly clean. She hated feeling gross in front of people.

After showering and dressing, she left the bathroom to toss her clothes in her bedroom before waking up her brothers. She went to Joseph first, then Reuben before going downstairs to start the coffee for her father and brother. She tried not to drink coffee very often because with her already increased amount of energy, coffee would just make her jittery. She heard the shower start upstairs and commotion from her father's bedroom. He must have gotten up while she was in the shower. He came downstairs while she was washing an apple.

"Good morning," she said with a little cheer. Not too much because her father wasn't a morning person and too much effervescence made him irritable.

"Good morning, Dinah," he said, smiling slightly. His grey-blue eyes shined in pride for a moment before dimming to solemnity. That probably meant that he had work that day. She decided not to ask him about it.

"Reuben's driving us to school today," Dinah informed him, noting he was still in his pajamas and scruffy from sleep, meaning he was shirtless with a pair of long pajama pants; he had severe bed-head in his salt-and-pepper hair, and his face was stubbly. He looked down at himself and frowned. Dinah smiled affectionately at him. He really wasn't very functional in the morning. Something for which she was grateful.

He turned around to move to the living area to turn on morning news. Dinah took the opportunity to pour his cup of coffee and sneak his medication into the mug. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reaching down to grab the TV remote. Tension left her body in relief as she went back to pouring her brothers' coffee and hiding her father's medication where he would never find it.

She heard Reuben on his way down the stairs and as soon as he came to the base, his eyes met hers. She nodded once inconspicuously and he visibly relaxed.

The Hollinger siblings had a routine for getting their father to take his medication without his noticing. It was simple and elegant, and usually performed without a hitch due to their assassin level skill sets.

Reuben approached her in the kitchen and took his and his father's coffee mugs and set to the kitchen. Dinah noticed with a frown that he was also shirtless. _Joseph better not be shirtless_, Dinah thought, _or I'm punching him in his shirtless solar plexus_. She promised silently to herself. Much to her relief, Joseph came down the stairs completely clothed, wearing a long sleeved, deep red thermal, long, dark jeans and heavy, black combat boots.

"Morning, sis," he said tiredly. Dinah noticed he was limping a little. She assumed he was more tired and sore than she was from last night's sparring session.

"Morning," she responded a little smugly, and he scowled at her playfully, nudging her with his elbow as she took a bite of her apple. This started a little nudging war between them. After a few minutes, Reuben came in to put his coffee mug in the sink and ended up putting a stop to their battle. Dinah and Joseph silently agreed to continue their war later.

Dinah finished her apple and headed upstairs to finish getting ready. She shoddily blow-dried her hair to maintain it's naturally wild, near-curling waves. She kept her deep black hair to her shoulders and heavily layered so that the ends of her near-curls looked untamed, yet contained. She added light make-up to her eyes, including a light neutral shade of brown, a thin line of brown eyeliner, and mascara on her impossibly long and thick lashes. Looking over her handy work, she knew what she needed to tie her outfit together: an array beaded necklaces in varying shades of purple, and a thick leather bracelet for her right wrist.

She admired her handiwork for a moment before gathering her assorted belongings for school. When finished, she went to her window and touched the glass with the back of her hand, determining the temperature. It was fairly chilly, and when she pulled her hand from the glass, condensation was left before disappearing into the air. She determined that she needed a jacket and decided on a fitted women's jacket that was trimmed to her body and warm for the cold, January, and was her second favorite over-garment.

She went downstairs with her black messenger bag hanging off her shoulder. Joseph and Reuben were ready and waiting for her. Joseph and Dinah took turns to say "goodbye" to their father before following Reuben to the car. The ride was short and sweet before Reuben pulled up to the curb in front of the school. Kids were talking and walking and looking entirely normal.

Dinah hopped out of the sedan before Joseph.

"Dinah," Reuben called after her. She stepped back to the rolled down window. Reuben gave her a steady look. "Please don't entirely disrupt the social order of the school. You know the chaos it causes," he pleaded sternly.

Dinah rolled her eyes. "I can't this year, you know that."

Reuben pressed his lips together and nodded. "Have a good day, lil' sis."

Dinah smirked and nodded before walking to the front of the school. Where she paused for a moment, taking in the scenery, the students bustling about. It was a large school with grand, old buildings mixed with new ones. There were benches lining the front walkway leading to the main doors where a few students sat, but most passed by, chatting to each other and entering the school.

That's when two students, probably her age, caught her eye. One had tanned skin and a mop of black hair falling over his forehead. The other was only slightly taller, by maybe barely an inch. That one was pale with cropped, dark brown hair and was moving with enthusiastic and erratic motions to whatever he was saying. He was actually pretty attractive, in an endearing way, and Dinah detected the most important thing a guy could have when it came to looks: potential. As he would grow and lose the last of that baby fat on his face, he would display excellent bone structure. He also needed to grow his hair out, she decided.

She determined then was a good time to approach them. As she got closer, she could hear the tail end of their conversation and the pale one was saying: ". . . it's the best thing that ever happened in this town, since—" insert the walking by of a very pretty, redheaded girl "—the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia! You look . . . like you're gonna ignore me!" he said as she continued to ignore him. Dinah reached them by then. The tan one seemed to notice her and acknowledged her as she approached. When the other one turned around and noticed her as well, he started and made a surprised noise and gesture.

"Whoa—uh, hey!" He said uncertainly, nodding his head and twitching nervously. The tan one nodded and smiled a small grin. He had potential as well: his deep, dark brown eyes had a sad, puppy-like quality to them. His jaw was a little crooked, but she decided that it added to his charm.

Dinah nodded her head toward the redhead that walked by like she was on the runway. "Is that Queen Bee?" she asked.

The boys looked at each other in confusion.

"Wha—"

"Is she the queen of the school?" she reiterated.

The pale one, whom she noticed had the most gorgeous, honey-brown eyes and a splattering of moles across his face, stuttered in response. "Uh, y-yeah, I guess." Dinah nodded. She figured as much. "Why?" the paler one continued.

Dinah shrugged. "It'll be important later. Anyway, I'm Dinah." She held out her hand to the the pale one. He stared at her hand with wide eyes like she were handing him a knife, as if encounters with the fairer sex were uncommon to him. After a hesitant moment, he took her hand in his and shook it once. "Stiles," he said. They let go and she turned to the darker one, holding out her hand for him. He took it as well, though his grasp was a little more hesitant.

"Scott," he said. Dinah noticed a little wincing movement. He was trying to be gentle to his right side.

"So, what was the most interesting thing that happened since the birth of Lydia Martin?" she asked as she started to head inside. The boys looked at her in surprise and glanced at each other before catching up to her.

"Well, you see—" Scott was interrupted by Stiles.

"There was a dead body found in the woods," Stiles said a eagerly.

Dinah arched a brow. "A body?"

"Half a body," Scott corrected.

Dinah's brows flew up, surprised. "Half?"

"Yeah, we went to go look for it last night," Stiles said, seeming proud of himself. Dinah scrunched up her brow incredulously.

"You two went out into the woods in the middle of the night to look for half a body," she summarized. Both of them winced as if she were accusing them of something worse. "And you were attacked?" She said, looking at Scott.

"How did you know about that?" Scott asked, eyes widening in surprise.

"Your right side is tender. I saw you wincing when we shook hands."

"You noticed him wincing?" Stiles asked, making a face.

"Yeah, I notice things. About people, especially. It's one of those skills I picked up from my parents. Anyway, I have to go sign in or whatever. I'll see you guys later, yeah?" She said and started to head to the administrative office.

"Yeah. See ya!" Stiles called after her.

Well, she found her two confidants. They were just inconspicuous enough to walk around mostly unnoticed, but still held gravity to their presence. Especially Scott. But she had a feeling that was due to recent events rather than it being natural. Stiles was just . . . effervescent, and so he was noticed for making grandiose gestures.

How did she know this?

She had no idea. Her perceptiveness was one of the things that evolved the fastest since her mother's death. That being said, she did deduce his attention being due to his excessive movement, but for Scott, this time, it was just a feeling she had.

When she reached the office, she approached the front desk. A moderately pretty, middle-aged woman looked up at her with curious, gray-blue eyes.

"Is there something I can help you with?" She asked. Dinah noticed her name was on a name slot on the front of her desk: Janine Walters

"Hi, yes. I'm Dinah Hollinger. I'm a new student," she answered.

Janine smiled. "Ah, yes. I have your file right here. I'll give it to the Vice Principal," she said before getting up and walking away. She didn't have to wait long before Janine came back along with a man in a suit she assumed was the Vice Principal.

"Dinah, yes. Your brother was just here a moment ago. Everything is taken care of. I'll be right with you with your schedule. For the time being, why don't you sit out on the benches while I get everything ready for you." And then he turned and walked back into the office.

She raised a brow and pursed her lip, but walked back outside after a moment of scrutiny, shrugging and brushing off the encounter. There were some leftover stragglers that were rushing to get to class. The five-minute warning bell had just rung, rushing some while others remained unperturbed.

One thing Dinah loved about starting school in the middle of the school year, was that she could more easily pick out the school's routine and patterns. Everyone was set in them anyway, and it would be difficult to break, therefore easy to study. It made a great subject for psychological testing.

She winced at herself. She sounded like a manic scientist intent on treating subjects like lab rats "FOR THE SAKE OF SCIENCE!" No. She wasn't about that life. She was just curious.

Once Dinah reached the darkly-painted, metal benches, she saw that the end of one was already occupied. It was a girl about her age and her height. She was pale, pretty, with long dark brown hair, curled to perfected waves, and a trendy style.

_Might as well_. . .

Dinah approached her noisily, shuffling her feet and letting her bag hit her body so that the girl's attention was drawn. It worked: she looked up in surprise and even a little fear in her pretty, light brown eyes. She seemed to relax when she realized that Dinah was sitting down.

"You're new, too?" she asked, her voice a little quavery. Dinah glanced at her hands to find them trembling a little.

Dinah smiled sweetly. "Yes, and you're incredibly nervous for something as simple as school."

The girl grimaced. "That obvious?" she said wryly.

"Nah. I mean you're a little green and you're trembling in those—" She glanced down to see: "—not so metaphorical boots of yours," she finished, pursing her lips.

The girl snorted and then chuckled. Dinah looked up to see the girl hiding a smile. Well, that was a success in Dinah's book.

Their moment was interrupted by a ringing. Allison jumped, but then relaxed and hurried to find her phone in her bag.

"Mom, three calls for my first day is a little overdoing it," she said with a roll of her eyes and a sheepish smile toward Dinah, who just smiled reassuringly in response. She sighed. "Everything except a pen. Oh, my God, I didn't actually forget a pen. Okay, okay, I gotta go, love you." She said hurriedly. Dinah furrowed her brow and looked over her shoulder. She saw the Vice Principal approaching them. When he reached them, he introduced himself, shaking both of their hands. Dinah learned the girl's name was Allison.

"So, Allison," the Vice Principal started as they walked to their first class. "You were saying San Francisco isn't where you grew up."

Dinah looked over at Allison who seemed nervous and sheepish. "No, but we stayed for more than a year, which is unusual in my family. We kind of bounce around a lot because of my Dad's work."

Dinah frowned. She would've pegged Allison as the girl who'd lived somewhere all her life and just moved out of the blue. She found it strange that Allison wasn't already accustomed to frequently changing addresses.

The Vice Principal smiled gently. "Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while." Dinah silently agreed with him, sending a cheerful smile at Allison to show as such. Allison seemed like a sweet girl and Dinah wanted to get to know her better. Allison seemed to appreciate the gesture and blushed, ducking her head with a shy, pleased smile.

They approached the girls' first class, then. Dinah checked the schedule that she acquired and saw that it was an English class. She put it away as the entered the classroom.

"Class, these are our new students Allison Argent, and Dinah Hollinger. Please do your best to make them feel welcome." The VP left and the teacher, Mr Curtis, as the paper had stated, motioned for the two of them to sit. Dinah stayed up for a moment, not following Allison to sit behind her.

Mr Curtis raised his brow curiously. "Is there something else, Miss. . ."

"Hollinger," Dinah reminded him. "And I just want it to be said, right now before any questions about pronunciation: it's 'dee-nah,' 'cause I know I'm going to have to keep correcting people later. So, if you guys could do me a favor, and help me get my name right around others I would _greatly_ appreciate it," she pleaded. The class looked slightly dumbstruck at her gall, and Mr Curtis seemed mildly surprised, but otherwise indifferent.

"Thank you, _Dee-nah_, for that lovely introduction. Now, if you don't mind, please take a seat."

Dinah gave him a bland smile and moved to sit behind Allison, the last seat open in the class. Which, coincidentally was right next to Stiles, the funny pale boy she met. Her eyes met his as she approached her seat and she smiled warmly at him, glad to have a familiar face in the crowd.

As she sat down, she heard a quiet, "Thanks," from Allison. Dinah craned her neck to see— surprise, surprise—Scott, turning back around, a satisfied grin on his face.

Dinah smirked at the interaction and thought about tapping Allison's shoulder to wink at her, but decided that would just make her more uncomfortable, so she refrained.

Mr. Curtis brought the class's attention to himself with the opening of the lecture: "Okay, let's begin with Kafka…"

Dinah heard the muffled groaning of dissent, and she sympathized. It was kind of a droll topic. She leaned back in her seat and settled in for the ride.

And hour later, the bell rang, signifying the end of the period. She finished packing to leave quickly and looked back at Stiles. He was standing and pulling his backpack over his shoulder.

"I'll see you at lunch," she called before turning and leaving. He seemed to be surprised because there was a pause before he returned her sentiment with an unsure, "Uh, y-yeah! See ya!"

The rest of her classes were pretty much the same in their layout, so she was able to zone out in some of her classes. Her French 3 class got interesting however, when she was assigned to sit with Lydia, the Queen Bee of the school. Lydia gave Dinah a perfunctory once over before she decided that Dinah was insignificant. Or maybe she just wanted to focus on French? Dinah couldn't be sure.

When the teacher asked Dinah how she learned French, in French, Dinah answered that it was the first language she learned in French. Lydia seemed to take pause at this. She turned to Dinah with an inquisitive, yet sultry glare and asked, "_Et comment pouvez-vous parler français?_" -_And just how well do you speak French?_

I looked to her casually and said, "_Couramment._" -_Fluently._

She pursed her lips at me and then smirked. She turned back to the front of the class with a little flip of her hair. At the end of the class, she turned to Dinah again. "_Asseyez-vous avec moi pendant le déjeuner?_" -_Sit with me at lunch? _She said expectantly.

Dinah smirked at her. "_Peut-être._" -_Maybe._ Dinah winked cheekily and strutted from the classroom to her next class: Chemistry. Dinah sighed at the thought of chemistry. Why in the world had she chosen to take Chemistry? She was so much better at Physics!

Fortunately, she learned that she shared the class with Stiles and Scott. When she saw them, she smiled brightly.

"_Oh hé, les gars! Fantaisie vous voir ici!_" She chirped brightly.

They both gave her blank confused looks. "What?" Stiles asked emphatically; his whole body seemed to move with the word to emphasize his confusion.

Realizing her faux-pas, she blushed and laughed to herself. "Sorry. I forgot to switch out of French mode." She sat down at the lab desk behind them. They turned around to continue speaking to her as she sat down.

"You have a French mode?"

"You speak French?"

Stiles and Scott asked her respectively and simultaneously.

"Yes, I speak French. I just had my French class, and so I forgot that the rest of the school speaks English," she said, smirking slightly.

Stiles snorted inelegantly. "Well, please excuse the rest of us for being confined to a single language." Dinah found his sarcasm amusing and her smirk grew as the boys turned around to face the teacher who had just called the class to attention. Dinah learned that her Chemistry teacher was named Mr Harris. She also learned that he was a sadist and took pleasure from the pain, turmoil, and strife of his students. Dinah was sure she could get along with this teacher.

If she kept her mouth shut, that is. Usually, she gave her respect for others freely; she had a feeling that Mr Harris would slowly lose all respect she had for him by the end of the semester.

Fortunately, the class went off without a hitch and the students were released. Dinah gave a little wave to the boys before she headed out to her last class before lunch, Economics. It went by quickly because the teacher was interesting. His name was Coach Finstock, the Coach of the Lacrosse team. He was hilarious with his harebrained rants, and was totally serious about them, too! Dinah had to keep herself from laughing on numerous occasions because she knew that he was dead serious about the topic before going back into economics.

At lunch, Dinah looked for her new friends and future confidants. She went to the cafeteria and her eyes roamed over the student body as she approached the front of the lunch line. She ordered a sandwich, salad, and apple, still light, but hefty for her fast metabolism.

Tray in hand, she wandered over to where she spotted them speaking animatedly to each other from across the table. As she approached, they quieted down. Both looking surprised that she opted to actually sit with them.

"Do you mind if I . . ." she started, and motioned her head to the spot next to Stiles. They both gaped at her, Scott's eyes wide, and Stiles's mouth actually hung open before Scott snapped out of it first and nodded. He slapped his best friend's arm and Stiles scrambled to move his stuff out of the way so she could take the seat next to him.

The boys remained silent as they interchanged from glancing at each other and staring at Dinah. Noting the tension in the silence building, Dinah waited to finish the bite she had just taken before speaking.

"So, let's get started," she announced, a light grin on her face. The boys frowned at each other.

"What?" Scott asked, confused.

"Well, judging by the confused stares you gave me as I was sitting down, you two aren't used to friends of the female persuasion, therefore, you didn't take me seriously when I said 'see you at lunch' and you're probably assuming I have some ulterior motive. Well, you're right. I'm doing a psychological experiment on the entire student body and I need a couple of observers and independent variables.

"And you picked us?" Stiles asked, incredulous.

"Yes. I'm spreading rumors about myself and I need people to know the truth other than my family."

"But why choose us?" Scott asked.

Dinah shrugged. "Because you're both outcasts."

Stiles snorted unconvincingly. "W-we're not. . ." he trailed off at both her and Scott's disbelieving stares. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his lunch.

"Yes, I needed outcasts. But that just means that our friendship will be more real and based on truth."

"So, you're using us?" Scott's voice was suspicious and self-conscious.

Dinah smiled sadly. "As much as I need helpers for my experiment, I need friends even more." At this, both boys frowned, staring contemplatively.

"So," Stiles started, his tone unsure, "You want to be our friend?" he asked, disbelieving.

Dinah smiled brightly. "Mhmm!"

Scott and Stiles exchanged a look at shrugged at the same time. Dinah smirked at their synchronization, something that could only come from being best friends for years.

"So," Dinah started, "What were you guys arguing about before I got here?"

"We weren't arguing," Stiles protested indignantly.

"Fine. What were you two _debating_?" Dinah said with a roll of her eyes.

"Scott thinks he was bitten by a wolf," Stiles said, exasperated.

"No, I said I heard a wolf howling, so maybe it was a wolf." Scott leaned forward and glared at his best friend.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "And I keep telling you there are no wolves in California,"

"Yes, there are," Dinah said casually. The boys froze and stared at her.

"No, there's not!" Stiles was adamant.

"Yes, there are." Dinah argued. "They may be in wildlife preserves, but there are wolves in California."

"Ha!" Scott cheered, triumphant.

"In fact, there's a new one in Beacon Hills. Even that one has wolves." Dinah continued eating nonchalantly.

"Whoa. Really?" Scott said. "I work at the vet and we didn't hear anything."

"Yeah, how do you know about this?" Stiles asked, suspicious.

"I work there."

"You work at a wildlife preserve?" Scott said, eyes bright in excitement.

Dinah smiled broadly. "Yup. They almost didn't hire me, too. Not enough credentials to work with wild animals, you know? But once they saw me with the tiger, they let me join."

"They have a tiger?" Stiles asked, his eyes going wide in wonder and disbelief.

Dinah nodded. Scott looked confused. "Why did they give you the job after seeing you with a tiger?" He asked.

Dinah let her eyes wander to the ceiling in thought. "I have this weird affinity for animals. They end up liking and accepting me right off the bat. I don't know. Maybe I have an animalistic scent or something."

At this, Scott frowned. "I don't think that's what it is."

Dinah frowned at him, glancing at Stiles, who seemed just as confused as she was.

"Why? Do you know what it is?" Dinah asked.

Scott's brow furrowed. "I don't know."

After a moment, Dinah shrugged, putting it aside for later thought. "Anyway, what did the bite look like?"

"Uh. . ." Scott shook his head uncertainly. "I don't know how to describe it."

"Well," Dinah started, going to her bag to take out of piece of paper and pen, "Here. Draw it. Or at least, draw the general shape. And then tell me where the canines are."

Scott nodded and took the offered pen and paper. Scott furrowed his brow as he concentrated and held his pen over the paper, seeming to try to remember what it looked like.

"So," Stiles started, "What's your favorite color?" He asked uncertainly, testing the waters on how to start a conversation with her.

Dinah blinked once, thinking about her answer. "Red," she answered. "Yours?"

"Green," he answered immediately, almost too quickly.

Dinah smirked. "Let me guess, it's the color of Lydia's eyes." Dinah watched with great amusement as his honey brown eyes widened and his cheeks splotched with color.

"H-how did—" he stuttered.

"I have my ways," she interrupted, then winked. To her to her delight, he blushed harder.

He swallowed and looked away. "Why'd you move to Beacon Hills?" he asked, if only to fill the silence and draw attention from his embarrassment. Dinah smirked again, and let him guide the conversation back to her.

"Well, my dad let us decide where we were going to move, and I presented the best argument for where I wanted to go, and I wanted to move back here."

Stiles's brow furrowed in confusion. "'Back here'? You mean you lived here before?" he asked. She could see the wheels turning behind his pretty eyes, trying to remember if he'd seen her in the neighborhood.

"I was born here," she clarified, "But we moved out a couple of months afterward. We've never been back until now."

"You said, 'us' before. Does that—"

"Yes, I have siblings. I have two older brothers. Joseph is actually a Junior here." Dinah craned her neck to look around the cafeteria. "I don't see him, but he's around here somewhere."

Stiles frowned and nodded. "You move around a lot?" He guessed.

Dinah snorted. "Try tons. I've been everywhere."

"Define everywhere," Stiles challenged skeptically. His eyes narrowed and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Dinah raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. To answer him, she sat back and held out her hand to count on her fingers. "Phoenix, Chicago, Port Angeles, Santa Monica, Las Vegas, Barcelona, Sicily, Berlin, Paris, Lisbon, Athens, Moscow, St. Peters-burg, Istanbul, Prague, Milan, Venice, Zurich, Manila, Taipei, Shanghai, Tokyo, Melbourne, San Francisco—"

"Okay! Okay, I get it. You've been everywhere," Stiles interrupted, sounding irritated. Dinah smirked.

"You do realize that—"

"Yes, you've been all over the world. I got it." Stiles glared at her, though, by the light in his eyes, she could tell that he was being playful about it. She grinned at him. "Doesn't mean you get to rub it in," he murmured.

Dinah scoffed. "I was not rubbing it in," she said indignantly, pouting a little.

"No?"

"No!" She said stubbornly, before a sly smile worked its way onto her face. "I was just proving a point."

Stiles pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "And what point would that be?"

Dinah gave him a look. "That I've been everywhere. Or were you not paying attention?" She asked playfully. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like I think I'm superior to you for having been all over the world. I'm a child of circumstance." She explained, allowing a bit of a whine into her voice.

"A child of circumstance?" He was laughing at her. She didn't mind it all that much.

"Yes. My family moved around a lot because of my dad's job."

Stiles nodded. "Understandable. But what does he do that has him move, literally, everywhere?" He asked, seriously curious this time.

"He's a private seller of arms to the military. Any military really."

"So, what? You can, like, use—"

"Here," Scott interrupted, sliding the pen and paper over. She pulled the paper to her and examined the two lines he drew to represent the shape.

The two lines were curved, the arcs pointing away from one another. The side lines were a little straightened out and the curves a little wide.

It wasn't a wolf's bite, she was certain.

"Where are the canines?" she asked, sliding the paper over to him, leaning forward as he pointed to the apex sides of the arcs. Dinah drew a circle in each of the four places he pointed. The incisors were very wide for an animal's mouth, the canines too far apart. But she couldn't be certain yet.

"What is it?" Scott asked, tone nervous.

Dinah looked up, surprised. She hadn't realized she'd been staring intently at the drawing.

"Well, it wasn't a wolf, that's for sure,"

"Ha!" Stiles mirrored Scott's triumphant cry from earlier.

"And if it was, it was a very large, probably some sort of mutant breed," she finished. Both boys sobered immediately.

The end of the lunch period's bell rang, interrupting the somber silence. Dinah smiled. "I'm keeping this. Maybe I can match it with any of the other animals at the preserve."

"No, yeah, thanks," Scott said sincerely, his puppy dog eyes boring into hers.

"No problem," Dinah said cheerfully. Maybe a little too cheerfully for her tactless comment made previously. So she toned it down a bit before turning and taking her tray to the trash and dumping its contents and leaving for her locker.

When she reached it, she saw Allison at her locker, only a few down from Dinah's. Allison seemed to notice her approaching and smiled a small smile that Dinah reciprocated.

"Hey," Dinah called, "I didn't see you at lunch," she started nonchalantly, turning the pad of her lock for the proper combination.

"Oh, yeah. My mom came and we had lunch together," she explained sheepishly, blushing a little. Dinah smiled warmly.

"That's sweet. Was it a good lunch?" Dinah asked, opening her locker and grabbing the necessary books for home and packed her bag. She grabbed her jacket last.

"Uh, yeah. It was great." Allison said, smiling, her blush receding. But then she looked over her shoulder and turned back around, blushing harder than before. Dinah closed her locker and approached her, craning her neck to see Scott gazing longingly at Allison. Dinah smirked and opened her mouth to playfully tease Allison about her new-found admirer.

And then out of _nowhere_, Lydia Martin appeared and practically cornered Allison, who jumped a little, and seemed to shrink away from the sudden attention.

"That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?" Lydia's smile was friendly, but her eyes were calculating.

Dinah looked back to Allison, who seemed dazed, before she snapped out of it and answered: "My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."

Lydia seemed pleased. "And _you_ are my new best friend," she giggled and turned to Dinah. "You," she drawled, her eyes narrowed as she tipped to her head to the side, a motion that would've been feral had she not had a playful smirk on her face.

"Me." Dinah deadpanned, a small smirk of her own pulling the corner of her lip upward..

"Where did you learn to speak French?" she asked, curious, but also conniving.

"My parents," she said. "They made sure I was multilingual to ensure a greater leaning capacity."

Lydia's roamed over Dinah's body, taking in all the details of Dinah's outfit before her pretty green eyes snapped back up to Dinah's cerulean. "_Je pense que je vous aime_." -_I think I like you_.

Dinah's smirk grew to be a friendly grin. "The sentiment is mutual."

Allison's eyes grew wide and confused as they flitted between Lydia and Dinah, seemingly lost on the situation.

It was at that moment that a boy, a handsome boy with fine features and pretty gray-blue eyes, that frankly, Dinah found boring, approached the girls and wrapped his arm around Lydia and kissed her soundly, making the smacking, kissing noises, which made Allison uncomfortable and Dinah roll her eyes in exasperation.

When he did manage to pull his face away from his girlfriend, he looked between the two new-comers. His eyes roved over both of them equally, seeming to catch on to different things about each of them. His smirk was a borderline flirtatious one.

"Hi, I'm Jackson Whittemore." He held out the hand not occupied with his girlfriend's waist to shake Dinah's hand, and then Allison's.

"Dinah," she said, and Allison said her name in turn.

"So," Lydia started, gathering the attention back to her, "This weekend, there's a party,"

Allison looked so uncomfortable, Dinah was afraid she would crawl into a shell and hide in there forever. "A party?" she asked in a small voice.

Neither Jackson nor Lydia seemed to pick up on Allison's discomfort.

"Yeah, Friday night. You both should come," Jackson said, his eyes glancing to Dinah, but he seemed focused on Allison. Dinah pegged this to her blatant disinterest in his good looks and confident stature. Allison was easy prey, and it seemed Jackson assumed this was because she was flustered because of him. Dinah couldn't be too sure, though, even if her hypothesis was probably right.

She wasn't studying psychology for nothing.

"Oh, I can't, it's family night on Friday. But thanks for asking," Allison declined politely.

Jackson and Lydia looked to Dinah.

"Meh, probably not," she said with a shrug. The couple frowned.

"You're sure? Everyone's going after the scrimmage." Jackson pressured lightly. Dinah wasn't having any of that.

"Sorry, you're going to have to give me a better reason than 'everyone's going after the scrimmage'." Dinah smirked a challenging grin at him.

"It's going to be the party of the year. At least until my birthday." Lydia spoke up, a knowing smile on her face.

Dinah pointed to Lydia and looked to Jackson. "See? _That_ is a better reason." Dinah looked back to Lydia as Jackson glared at her. "Maybe. I'll see if I don't have work Friday."

Lydia smiled, pleased. Jackson tried to bring a smile back to his face. Wow. Already one day in and Dinah already made a frenemy. That was a new record.

"You said scrimmage. You mean, like, football?" Allison interjected, eyes lighting at a familiar term. It was shot down by Jackson's derisive laugh.

"Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We won national championship last year." He crooned in pride.

"Because of a certain team captain." Lydia looked in delight at her boyfriend, like he was a trophy and tried to brush back his hair from his forehead where Dinah guessed he missed some gel.

"We have practice in a few minutes. If you don't have anything else to do." Jackson's tone was friendly again.

"Well, I was going to—" Allison started, but was interrupted by Lydia.

"Perfect! You're coming." She announced and stepped away from her boyfriend to grab Allison's and Dinah's wrists and dragged them along. Dinah's brows soared in disbelief, but decided to go along with it. She didn't have anything better to do for her free period anyway. She saw Allison glance over her shoulder to where Scott was still standing, leaning against the lockers before they were out of sight.

The air was chilly outside and Dinah put on her jacket hastily before approaching the benches. Lydia too had donned her jacket and put on a cute hat that she hadn't worn when she arrived. She must have kept it in her locker.

The boys in their lacrosse gear ran back and forth in warm-ups and Dinah watched them vaguely, her mind wandering to the bite on Scott's side. Two players approached the field and Dinah recognized them as the dynamic duo: Scott and Stiles. So far, she hadn't seen them apart. They were chatting before Stiles sat down, allowing Scott to find Allison. Dinah watched as she smiled at him.

Dinah recognized Coach Finstock walk up to Scott and give him instructions. Scott glanced back at Allison before putting on his helmet and went to the goal to guard it.

"Who is that?" Allison wondered aloud.

Lydia looked thoughtful. "Him? I'm not sure who he is. Why?" Dinah watched Scott carefully. His head twitched in their direction.

"He's in our English class," Allison answered. Scott's head turned to them as if he were listening. Dinah's eyes narrowed.

"His name is Scott." Dinah watched his reaction carefully, barely aware of Allison's head snapping to look at her. Scott's head inclined to Dinah as well. A reaction to Allison's turning? Noticing her mouth move?

Above average hearing?

"You know him?" Allison asked eagerly.

Dinah turned to her and smiled. "Well, I met him just today. I sat with him and his friend, Stiles, at lunch." Dinah inclined her head to Scott and Stiles respectively.

The referee blew his whistle, calling Dinah's attention back to the field to see Scott cradling his head as if in pain. When it stopped, he looked up only to be hit in the head with a ball. He went flying backward and Dinah flinched at the scene.

She remarked his reaction to the whistle though. It was in correlation to the idea of his astounding hearing. She didn't want to connect it to the bite yet, but she knew it was strange. She briefly recalled Allison thanking Scott for something in English class, and wondered what he'd done to help her.

Scott stood back up and went still, concentrating.

The next ball that was thrown, Scott caught it easily, as if it was a natural reflex to him. Scott seemed surprised as he looked at his lacrosse stick in wonder.

Dinah frowned and looked at Stiles. He was stunned and very excited. Was it new? Was Scott suddenly doing better?

Dinah watched Scott more closely. He caught every ball effortlessly.

"He seems like he's pretty good," Allison remarked.

"Yeah, very good," Lydia agreed.

Dinah hummed vaguely and stood up to go approach Stiles sitting on the bench. She ignored Lydia and Allison's inquiries as she walked across them and the benches to get to Stiles. He heard her approach and turned, a big smile lighting his eyes.

"Hey!" He called, smile big.

"Is that new?" She asked, pointing to Scott, and they turned to watch him catch another ball.

It took Stiles a moment to answer. "Yeah, but it's _awesome_," he enthused quietly. Dinah nodded and turned back to sit with the girls.

"What was that about?" Allison asked as Dinah sat next to her.

Dinah shrugged. "Just checking something." She continued to watch Scott with a frown on her face.

Jackson stepped up to the front of the line, stopping the next player from taking. He readied himself and a pissing match ensued between Scott and Jackson involving staring and testosterone. After a moment, Jackson lobbed the ball harshly and accurately and Scott caught it with ease.

Stiles went wild on the bench, the rest of the onlookers cheered loudly and Lydia jumped up to cheer for her boyfriend's competitor. Jackson glared at her, but she just smirked at him challengingly, as if daring him to do better. Then she sat and everyone calmed to watch the rest of practice.

Dinah didn't cheer or smile. She knew that there was no coincidence between Scott's bite and his new-found athleticism. She didn't want to go to the supernatural idea yet, and tried to stay in the scientific and factual, but she couldn't come up with any real explanation.

For now, she would follow through with her promise and get the first question answered:

_What the hell had bitten Scott?_

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_*Oh hey, guys! Fancy seeing you here!*_

**So that was that chapter. What'd you guys think? What do you guys think about Dinah now that we see her interact with other characters? If you guys point out that she seems weird, I know. She's weird. That's the point. **

**There might be some details that might be a little off, like I didn't put one of the translations after the dialogue, and I did that on purpose. A lot of the stuff that I leave in that might seem like mistakes are actually purposeful and have meaning. So keep that in mind while critiquing my work.**

**Please review. As a wise fellow fanfic writer says, "It's how we get paid." It's how we writers learn and grow. **

**Again, I'm sorry for the delay. It turns out I might not be able to update as often as I would like, now that I have a job. But I'll keep writing, especially now that I have a responsibility as a writer to my audience.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Till next time! :)**


	4. Red and Yellow

**So this is chapter 3. Honestly, I'm just glad I got this done in a reasonably timely fashion. Sure, it's been a little over two months, but it took me, like four months to write the second chapter of a different story. So I think I did well.**

**I hope you like this chapter. It's not my best writing, and therefore not my favorite, but it gets the story moving, so I can't be to harsh on it.**

**Thank you tremendously to those that read and review my work. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate it.**

**Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OC's and ****only**** my OC's. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine. Duh.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

3\. Red and Yellow

So many thoughts swirled through Dinah's head, questions and suspicions about Scott and his mysterious bite, and then his seemingly sudden athletic ability. With that in mind, Dinah reminded herself again to bring the picture of the bite that Scott drew to the cages.

When she arrived at the Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve she purposely put the drawing in her pocket before even getting out of her car. Convinced that she would remember, she headed to the locker room to change and put her belongings safely inside her personal locker. She put the drawing in her jacket pocket and then reported for duty.

Thomas Macey, her supervisor, was busy on his computer in his office. She knocked twice on the open door before entering. Thomas gave her a perfunctory glance as she went to her box to retrieve the list of her tasks for the day.

Thomas was a man of thirty, tall, average looks, dirty blond hair, a constant five o'clock shadow and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose in front of his baby blues. He was married with a toddler and another on the way.

"Hey, Tommy-boy," Dinah said nonchalantly. It was the nickname she came up with after she got the job.

Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes. "Don't call me that," he said blandly. She knew he didn't expect her to to stop using the nickname any time soon. But he still felt it necessary to tell her to stop.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Dinah asked. Though her list was specific to her, sometimes those tasks were in preparation for an event, something she learned quite quickly. Sometimes inspectors would come to make sure the animals were well nurtured.

"Just work like normal," Thomas answered. Meaning no inspections. "We're having a vet come and look at some of our less wild animals." Well, that was new. But, then so was the Preserve. But, did that mean it was the vet that Scott mentioned?

"How many vets are in the area?" She asked, putting her list of tasks in the opposite pocket of the bite.

"Just the one that I know of." Thomas turned back to face his computer, effectively finishing their conversation.

Well, that settled that. She doubted that Scott would accompany the veterinarian

Sighing she shook her head and focused on the list that had been given her. It was the usual: clean some pens, feed the animals that hadn't been fed yet, play with the wolf pack and tiger, let the cheetahs and leopards rest. While the preserve wasn't a particularly big one, it had a large array of animals in need of rehabilitation before either being released into the wild or going to a zoo. There was always something to be done for the animals.

Dinah and the animals got on very quickly. Especially with the wolves. She became an honorary pack member after challenging the alpha to a staring contest. It was a pseudo match for dominance, and Dinah let the alpha know subconscious that she was a friend to the pack that she would not follow him as a leader, but she still respected him. She had a dominant personality naturally, but she chose not to hold any dominance over him or his pack. It was an agreement of mutual respect between the two that didn't involve spoken word. Dinah was still unsure as to how she even knew about the agreement, but it was something that just happened and she understood. She played with his pack often, with toys and playing chase. They knew not to bite hard or to lose control while playing with her; she was human after all.

Dinah loved the wolves. They were incredibly intelligent and the pack mentality fascinated her. The tiger on the other hand, was a whole other matter. Getting him to the preserve was nearly impossible. Once they managed, he was was aggressive and uncooperative with any and all of the handlers who were trying as gently as possible to subdue him. Then Dinah arrived looking for a job, she heard a ruckus, went outside to check it out, saw the beast and walked up to the cage completely blasé. The tiger seemed to notice her different presence right away and charged hostilely, growling and snarling and Dinah held her ground calmly and sternly, refusing to back down. The tiger paused his advance uncertainly, calming down on the basis of confusion. She approached slowly and calmly, holding her hand out, keeping her eyes away from the tiger's. He came to her as well, pressed his nose to her hand, and the rest was history. Just like that, the tiger accepted her as a friend. Or rather, a respected ally and confidant. It, too, was a contract of mutual respect. They even cuddled on occasion for mutual warmth. Dinah would've called it something other than "cuddling," but she didn't know the word for it. She hoped it would one day evolve to cuddling as affection on his part, though she was sure that wouldn't happen for a while, so she left it alone.

Done reminiscing, she sighed and went to work. It took her about two hours to finish cleaning and feeding the animals assigned before she went to the wolf pen. The younger wolves were more excited to see her and jumped against the gage and barked happily when they saw her approaching the fence door.

She greeted them playfully and slowly opened the door, sliding through so none of them could escape. Before she could greet them properly, she made her way to the alpha. It had become a routine of theirs. DInah would greet the alpha wolf first before playing with the others. It went like this: she approached him, and he her, and they stared into each other's eyes before she reached out her hand, backside first, and he reached out his nose to lightly tap and lick the back of her hand, giving her permission to touch him and the rest of his pack.

Dinah smiled and stroked his head and back twice, then turned to face the rest of the pack, who quickly, for lack of a better word, glomped her. They managed to send her back to the ground where they had convenient and easy access to her face where upon three of seven beta wolves licked her face happily. The rest sniffed at every part of her.

Laughing, she sat up and pet and scratched each of the wolves nearby. The older, more reserved wolves sat back and watched contentedly.

Before she could start playing, she handled one of the younger pups to open his mouth and inspect his teeth. He whined when she held him sternly to look properly, but seeing that she was right—it didn't match the shape of Scott's bite—she let him go and continued to play with them.

After about thirty minutes of playing with young wolves and pups, it was time for Dinah to move on to the tiger. The young wolves gave slight protest of her leaving, but after a quick bark from their alpha, they scampered back to their mothers or groups for the evening.

The tiger she'd jokingly nicknamed Shere Khan waited calmly for her in the jungle-like environment of his enclosure. When he saw her approaching, he stood and trotted to the front of the fence. He'd been fed earlier, so he didn't make the cute, meowing-roars that tigers make when food was promised. She loved when she could feed him because he made a lot of the meow-rumbles that made her giggle. It sounded like a great predator was trying to play the cute card and it backfires, making them sound more intimidating than before.

She opened the fence door a smidge, slid through. Shere Khan walked around her and rubbed his body against hers, nearly tipping her over. He wanted to play, she realized, and went over to the small hut that held his medical and feeding needs. It was there that his toys were kept: a large rubber ball, a little flat from the attention he gave it, and some ropes and tethers.

Dinah stayed away from the ball lest it be accidentally tossed into the pseudo-river. It was too cold to play in the water for her, and to snuggle with a half-ton soaking wet tiger.

He was in a playful mood, so Dinah was forced to run around, playing chase and tug-of-war with the tether and rope before he tired, or rather, got bored, and lay in the tall, green grass of the "jungles of India." Dinah, panting a little, dropped to the ground next to him and scooted close. He gave a little grunt in acknowledgement.

Hearing a scrunch in her pocket, she remembered the bite and pulled it out, then straightened the crumpled paper on her leg. She made a clicking noise to call Shere Khan's attention and the tiger turned to glance at her over his shoulder. She reached to gently pull the tiger's head in her direction. He resisted, but sensing her insistence, allowed her to move his head.

Carefully, she pried his mouth open, placing the drawing on the ground to use both her hands. Shere Khan's maw opened and she got a good look at the sharp teeth that . . . were not the same shape or size as the drawing.

She let him close his mouth and he licked his chops appreciatively. She stuffed the drawing back into her pocket. Sighing she lay down next to Shere Khan and relaxed, enjoying the peaceful moment. Eventually Shere Khan rested his head on his paws.

Those moments of peace were as refreshing as they were rare.

Dinah felt a disturbing presence watching them at the same time Shere Khan stiffened and raised his head. Dinah sat up quickly and searched with him, turning her head around and searching for whatever it was that they were feeling.

Finally, she spotted something: a pair of glowing red eyes in the brush lining the woods outside Shere Khan's pen.

Her heart started pounding with adrenaline. It was disturbing and she felt threatened, but the eyes weren't very still, indicating they were merely interested in watching her, so she calmed down.

Shere Khan stood, growling quietly and trotted around his pen searching for the presence, not seeing the red eyes outside his cage. But Dinah didn't move. She kept her eyes trained on those eyes. She cursed in her head for not bringing at least her .9 millimeter handgun, but was grateful she remembered to strap her combat knife to her right thigh.

Then, as she watched, the eyes turned away and disappeared. From that distance, Dinah could only barely hear the brushing against the foliage as whatever creature that was watching her, left.

She waited a minute for the thing to come back, but it didn't, and she let her tense muscles relax. She sighed audibly and stood, calling Shere Khan to her. He was still sniffing about his enclosure. Sensing he was still on edge, she refrained from approaching him and stayed right where she was.

"Dinah!" Thomas called, startling her. She gasped, and then relaxed, and chose to walk slowly to the fence door to exit.

When Thomas approached, he noticed Shere Khan trotting about. "What's going on with him? He's usually calm after you've had your turn with him," he observed.

Dinah pressed her lips together in a line as her eyes found the brush again. She was reluctant to tell him about the eyes, but it wasn't just her being paranoid, now was it?

"We felt something watching us," she said after a moment of tense silence. "It was simultaneous, we both felt it. It was a predator, or else Shere Khan wouldn't have reacted the way he did."

Thomas tensed and frowned. "Did you see what it was?" he asked.

Dinah shook her head. "But I saw glowing red eyes in the brush. They're gone now. I don't think it was interested in hunting. It was just. . . Observing, I think."

Dinah was glad that Shere Khan had felt that presence, too. Otherwise, Thomas would've brushed her off as being paranoid.

"Well, we'll keep an eye out. For now, the vet is here. You should meet him." Dinah nodded and followed Thomas back to the main office. Waiting in it, was a kindly looking gentleman of about Thomas's age with dark skin and eyes and a smooth head.

"Dinah, this is Dr. Alan Deaton of the Beacon Hills Veterinary Clinic." The doctor reached out his right hand and Dinah took it to shake it once. His hold was strong and firm, she noticed.

"Dinah Hollinger," She introduced. Dr. Deaton's smile was kind but his eyes were intense, and gave Dinah the feeling that he had just realized something about her. It made her wary of him, but she didn't feel threatened.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Hollinger. I expect we'll see more of each other in the future."

Dinah nodded once. "Probably," she replied. "I assume Scott stayed behind at the clinic?"

The doctor's smile faltered as he tilted his head to the side. But then his face relaxed and he nodded. "You must have met him today. Yes, I needed someone to stay behind and watch the animals."

Dinah nodded again. That made sense. Before she could ask him a few questions, Thomas turned to her and said, "If you're done, you're free to go."

Dinah sighed. "Alright. See you later." she told him, and nodded her head at the doctor as a way of farewell. He smiled kindly again and waved once.

On her way to the lockers, her mind went back to the red eyes and the bite. She didn't think it was a coincidence. But if that were the case, whatever bit Scott is not only a dangerous predator, enough so that even Shere Khan was on edge, but it was in the woods, walking around for anyone to get hurt. It made her uncomfortable to know that something that dangerous lurking in the woods. And, she didn't even know what it was.

She shuddered at the sudden cold breeze before stepping into the locker to change.

* * *

The next day, she couldn't even get into contact with Scott or Stiles to let them know what she'd found. First she was late getting up because one of her brothers had reset her alarm to a later time, making her rush to get ready, making her and Joseph almost late. She had no time to talk to Stiles and Scott before class. And then, at Chemistry, the only open seats left were on the other side of the room.

And before leaving for Chemistry, Lydia stopped her and commanded, in English, "You're sitting with me at lunch today," before walking off, not even letting Dinah try to say "no."

So there she was, watching forlornly as Scott and Stiles talked animatedly among themselves as she walked with Lydia to her table, where Jackson, Allison, and a few other students were waiting. Dinah got the seat across from Lydia, Allison sat to Lydia's right, and Jackson at the head of the table to her left. Dinah looked to the boy sitting to her left. He was dark skinned and really attractive.

"Dinah," she introduced quietly, holding her hand out to him and he took it, shaking it once.

"Danny," he replied, smiling warmly at her. They released hands.

"So, how'd you get roped into this gathering of higher ends?" she asked, and then took a bite of her salad.

He chuckled, seeming to understand her reluctance to be at that table immediately. He pointed to Jackson. "That idiot is my best friend."

"Ah," Dinah said, and nodded in acknowledgement.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Her majesty, Queen Lydia, demanded that I sit with her and walked away before she could take 'no' for an answer," Dinah said with a roll of her eyes.

Danny chuckled. "That sounds about right. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Dinah groaned. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to. . ." she trailed off with a sigh and took another bite out of her salad.

"Is it true you were held hostage in Libya?" Lydia suddenly asked, her eyes narrowed skeptically. The question surprised Dinah and the food only made it halfway to her mouth.

"Is that what they're saying about me?" Dinah asked, incredulous. She knew how that rumor started (she sort of started it), but she was kind of surprised it took that turn.

"Among other things," Lydia acknowledged, still suspicious of this piece of information.

Dinah smirked a wicked smile. "Wouldn't you like to know," she said and took that bite of her salad.

Lydia's eyes narrowed to slits when she realized Dinah wasn't going to tell her anything. Lydia pursed her lips and continued eating. Dinah turned to Allison sitting across from her.

"How'd adjusting to Beacon Hills?" Allison looked surprised that Dinah was addressing her. She swallowed her bite and nodded.

"Great, actually. Everyone's so welcoming," she admitted, smiling at Lydia, who beamed back, and Jackson who gave an appreciative smirk. Dinah smiled genuinely.

"See, I knew you would be fine." Dinah said. Allison looked back at her and chuckled. Dinah winked at her playfully.

Lydia interrupted the moment. "So, we finally got Allison to agree to go to the party. Have you made up your mind?" she addressed Dinah.

Dinah grinned. "Yeah, I'll be off tomorrow, so I can make it."

Lydia gave Dinah her first genuine smile. "You better. I'll look forward to seeing you." Dinah laughed, though she couldn't help but think that she just sealed her fate.

The rest of lunch went by amicably, though she could tell that Jackson tried to speak to her as little as possible. She and Danny got along really well. He had a sardonic and dry sense of humor that she really enjoyed and could work with in conversation. Unfortunately, she learned, he was gay. She sighed inwardly at the loss of such a man available for her (or ladies world wide—seriously the world needed more men like him), but hoped he would find another young man that deserved him.

After lunch, Lydia dragged both she and Allison back to Lacrosse practice: Coach Finstock would be choosing team members that afternoon. Dinah was just eager to observe Scott's behavior and hopefully talk to Stiles about what she found.

While she sat on the bleachers, she searched for Scott and Stiles and found them already on the field. She sighed; she just couldn't catch a break, could she?

She watched again, eyes trained on Scott. It was the same as yesterday. He did phenomenally. Her eyes looked for Stiles on the sidelines. He didn't look as happy about it as last time. In fact, he looked almost terrified. And that scared her. He found out something, something about Scott's bite. That was the only reason that he could possibly be worrying about Scott doing _well_.

The Coach called Scott over, seeming to yell at him, but then praised him. The people nearby cheered and Dinah assumed that meant he was on first line. Her eyes cut back to Stiles, who looked downright distraught.

Dinah pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow in concern. Something about this whole situation seemed . . . more _dangerous_ than it should've been. Her mind was brought back to the red eyes and the dark presence. The pit in her stomach dropped when she considered that that . . . _thing_ was not only the one that bit Scott, but was also the one that was responsible for the changes in Scott.

Dinah didn't want to have to consider the supernatural, but it seemed it was the only option left.

Finally, the practice ended. Dinah got up and left, ignoring the two girls behind her to find Scott and Stiles. When she made it onto the field, she saw that they were already gone. She silently cursed and headed back to the school to get her things. She could only hope that she would at least run into them.

She walked with a brisk pace to her locker, almost jogging at some points. She wanted to get home and do research, if at all possible to find data on Scott's condition.

The hallway to her locker was empty, but a few stragglers walked through by the time she had her locker open. She gathered the books she needed, packed them into her messenger bag, and closed her locker a little harder than intended. A couple people glanced her way, but paid her no mind.

She started to head out, walking briskly again, but she walked right into someone turning a corner. He made a grunt in surprise as they hit hard enough to send the books he was carrying sprawling to the floor. There was a moment of surprised silence, before Dinah looked up to see Stiles, looking at her in surprise, and a little fear.

And then he scrambled to pick up the books he dropped as quickly as he could.

"Here, let me help—" she started but he interrupted her with flailing arms.

"NO!" He shouted and she paused. "I mean, no. No, I'm good. I can handle this. This is nothing. It's just a few books." His voice shook a little bit as he rambled.

Dinah eyed him suspiciously. She knelt down next to him to help and he moved to stop her.

"Hey, no, I said I could—" he trailed off when Dinah saw what book he was trying to stop her from seeing: _Werewolves: A Field Guide to Shapeshifters, Lycanthropes, and Man-Beasts_ by Bob Curran. Dinah's eyes widened as she looked at the other books he was looking into, and when he tried to hide them, she grabbed his hand and pulled them back toward her and he made a weird shrill grunt in surprise and protest, but then sighed in surrender. Her eyes roamed some of the titles: _Werewolves In Written Fiction _by Hephaestus Books, _Anthropomorphism _also by Hephaestus Books, _Werewolves_ by Nigel Suckling, and _The Book of Werewolves_ by Sabine Baring-Gould among others.

Dinah's wide eyes found Stiles's again. He was looking at her warily, biting his lip, then glanced about in uncertainty, twitching often and bouncing anxiously.

"Stiles, are we seriously considering the supernatural?" She asked, hoping the inflection of her tone reflected the severity of the situation.

Stiles twitched a little more and sighed, pulling the book from her hand. "Not yet. And there's no _we_. Scott's fine, and you don't need to be involved—" he was cut off by Dinah suddenly grabbing a hold of his shirt and yanking him closer as he let out a shrill yelp of shock. Dinah glared at him furiously.

"Don't you _dare_ get heroic on me. I can handle myself. And if _we are_ considering the supernatural, you're going to need _my_ help. Not because of any knowledge I have—I have none—but because of my ability to fight, my level head, and readiness for disaster. I know you don't want anyone else getting harmed if this turns out to be supernatural, but I chose—and still choose—to involve myself. I already involved myself when I asked to help Scott with his bite.

"So no matter what you think of me, I'm involved now. And if I'm involved, I might as well help. And you don't need to worry about my keeping the secret. I'll take to the grave." She paused, letting her words settle. She let him go and they both stood. Stiles regarded her cautiously, but eventually nodded, then sighed and scratched his head, making an awkward grimace on his face.

"I think I saw it yesterday," she said quietly. Stiles head snapped back to her. "W-what do you mean you saw 'it?' 'It' as in a giant wolf? Some mutant breed, some raging were-monster running around biting teenagers in the woods?" He asked eagerly and warily at the same time. Dinah couldn't figure how he managed to do that.

Dinah raised a brow at him, but then dropped it to be serious. "The latter, I think." Stiles paled and sighed, bringing his hand up to his face to rub at the lower half of his face in worry. "Actually, I didn't see it in entirety. Just its glowing red eyes, but—"

"That's what Scott said," Stiles lowered his voice.

"What?"

"That's what Scott said he saw before this big wolf-thing chased him and bit him," he said seriously.

Dinah's stomach dropped with the realization that she was right. "Did he say what he felt?"

"What?" Stiles scrunched his face in confusion.

"I was in the tiger enclosure, and we both felt, at _the same time_, a dark, heavy . . . _predatory_ presence watching us. And then I sat up and saw glowing red eyes in the brush of the forest." Stiles stared at her skeptically and pursed her lips. Dinah sighed. "You don't have to believe me and what I felt. But, _the tiger felt it, too_. Animals are more sensitive than humans are to the energy and presences of other animals. Shere Khan felt uneasy, and it startled him enough to get up and look for whatever it was."

"_Shere Khan_?" Stiles asked, a smirk working its way onto his face.

Dinah leveled a deadpanned stare at him and the smirk fell. "Will you focus? The presence didn't feel threatening because it wasn't after me or Shere Khan. It just," she sighed, "Left."

Stiles pressed his lips together. He shifted from one foot to the other, she assumed, just to keep moving. He sighed and rubbed his face. "But what does that _mean_?"

"It means that this animal, whatever it is, or if it _is_ a werewolf. It isn't doing this completely at random. It has some semblance of intelligence to be able to distinguish between its victims."

Stiles sighed. "Shit," he said under his breath.

"What?" She moved her head into his line of sight, and honey-brown eyes met cerulean blue.

"My dad got the results from the the autopsy." He said, but paused and was hesitant to tell her.

"And?" she prompted.

"They found animal hair on the body." Her stomach dropped. She knew what he was going to say. "Wolf hair," he finished.

The final bell for school rung, startling them and releasing students into the hall. They exchanged worried stares.

"Can you meet with me tomorrow after school?"

Dinah shook her head. "I'm going to Lydia's party tomorrow."

Stiles groaned and rolled his head in annoyance, but then froze and his head snapped back to her. "No, that's good. That's really good. Scott's going to that party tomorrow. You can keep an eye on him."

"Me? Why can't you go and watch him? You're his best friend," Dinah said in confusion.

"Well—because—I, I wasn't invi—I just don't think. . ." he trailed off with a sigh of frustration.

Dinah raised a brow at him. "You're coming. And if you aren't invited, then you're crashing. I don't know if I'm far enough into the 'in-crowd' to give out invitations yet."

Stiles looked at her with suspicion, but a smile started growing on his face. Dinah smirked at him. "Fine," he relented, chuckling. "I'll go crash Lydia's party, bump into her, make a complete and utter fool of myself all for the sake of my idiot best friend who might just turn into a werewolf—"

"Shhh," Dinah admonished playfully, smacking him on the arm.

"Ow!" he barked, rubbing the spot she'd hit.

"I gotta go," she said and he nodded. And started to walk away. "Wait," she grabbed his sleeve and he stopped, looking back at her with raised brows. "Give me your phone."

He frowned, but quickly reached into his pocket to take out his phone. Quickly, she put herself in as a contact and texted herself through his phone to acquire his number. When done, she handed him his phone, taking out hers and waved it to let him know she had his number. He seemed stunned to have her number.

"Oh, w-wow, great! Yeah, I'll-I'll uh, text you if I, yeah—"

Chuckling at his inability to speak properly, she said "I'll see you tomorrow, Stiles." She turned around to head toward the front of the school.

'Y-yeah! See you!" He called from behind her and she grinned to herself. Until her mind went back to the information she'd shared.

It looked like they were considering the supernatural after all. Her heart clenched and stomach dropped at the realization that something supernatural really did exist. Her mind whirled with the possibilities. If Scott really _was_ a werewolf, how many other creatures could there be out there? And how many would she have to come in contact with?

How paradigm-shattering to learn that her world was so much bigger than she could've ever dreamed. The thought alone terrified her completely.

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**So that was chapter 3. What'd you guys think? **

**I hope Stiles's character didn't seem too OoC. I try to get him to match his character to the best of my ability. I want to stay as true to the canon characteristics as possible. **

**That being said, how do you guys like the interaction between Dinah and Stiles? ****Let me know by reviewing. It helps.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Till next time!**


	5. Then Came to be

******This is a nice and long chapter. I didn't want to split it due to the way that I wanted to end this chapter. There were a lot of key things that I wanted to happen in this chapter that I'm glad I was able to write, so I'm happy with it.******

******T************hank you tremendously to those that read and review my work. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate it.******

****Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OC's and ****only**** my OC's. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine. Duh.****

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

4\. Then Came to Be

Dinah lay on the grass of her backyard panting. Her father went harder on them than usual. She wondered if there was something that unsettled him that day. Surprised him, maybe? He didn't do well with surprises. He usually went into panic-paranoid mode for a couple moments, and after he calmed down, his medicine by then had worn a little bit off. And it was on those days that he made sure his children were "well prepared" as he called it.

For Reuben, Joseph, and Dinah, that meant killer workouts that left them beyond exhausted. Weakly, she tapped the ground.

"I'm out," she gasped. "I'm done."

"No," he commanded. "Get up. We have more to cover."

Dinah groaned as she peeled her eyes open. It was already past sunset, the dusky air was turning the world gray around them.

"No, father. We're done," Reuben defied. Dinah could hear him groan as he sat up. She let her head fall to the side to look for him. He was drenched in sweat, panting just as hard as she was. She tilted her head back to look at her father, her eyes finding his, and then tried to muster enough energy to plead with him, only using her eyes.

He glared at her sternly, not willing to give. She was too tired to argue, but also too tired to keep sparring. That was a lie, of course. If truly necessary, she would push herself to keep fighting.

This, of course, was not a life or death situation, and after sparring round after round, pushing her limits hour after hour, she didn't feel it urgent to keep pushing until she couldn't move at all, and finally collapsed. Her whole body ached and her muscles felt weak as she tried to sit up, or pull her arms in a position to push her to her side. By this point, every little task was a grueling one.

"Very well," her father conceded and the siblings sighed and groaned in relief.

Dinah hauled herself to her feet, wobbling as she stood, knees shaking with effort. Reuben was already up and was trying to coax Joseph up from the ground.

She stumbled her way inside. She caught movement in her peripherals and turned her head to see her father on the couch and she paused and narrowed her eyes in his direction, confused. He was hunched over, broad shoulders tense, head in his hands which were rubbing his face with the tension of concern, exhaustion, worry, and doubt.

Dinah's heart clenched at the sight of her father like this. It was a common position of his when he was troubled.

Deciding to postpone the shower for the time being, she shakily approached him. "Dad?" she called gently. His head snapped up and his eyes showed unshed tears before he could hide them. Quickly, he wiped at his eyes and chuckled grimly.

"That you can sneak up on your father in this tired state just shows how truly gifted you are," he said with a proud, sad smile. Dinah's brows furrowed at him and his smile dropped. "You understand, don't you? Why I have to push you so hard?" When Dinah merely pressed her lips together, he sighed and leaned on his knees with his arms. "I can't lose you like I lost her," he said, voice shaking, and when tears started to form again, he looked back down, hiding his face from his daughter.

Dinah's breath hitched as her heart twinged. She hated seeing her father like this. She hadn't seen him this broken since the month after her mother died.

Sighing, she sat down next to him and placed a hand on his back gently in comfort. "What happened today?" she asked quietly. He looked back to her from behind his shoulder.

He shook his head and laughed humorlessly. "It was nothing. I just started over thinking again." He wiped at his eyes again. Dinah's hand dropped from his back as he turned his torso to face her, and she sat up straight to look him in the eye sternly.

"You won't lose us like you lost her. We're strong, and you've been training us to be strong and enduring. So you don't need to worry about us. You made sure that we could take care of ourselves. You won't lose us."

Jacob sighed and wrapped an arm around his daughter and pulled her close. Dinah nuzzled into her father's neck, reveling in his comforting warmth.

"She would've been proud," he whispered brokenly, pressing his chin to her head. She nodded.

"I know," she said, and they went quiet, sitting in each other's comforting company. After a moment or two of calm comfortable silence, her father let out breathy chuckle.

"You smell like sweat," he complained quietly.

Dinah laughed aloud. "Gee, I wonder why!" she cried between her chortles. Her father's deep laugh sounded around her and she smiled contentedly. She shifted to get up to shower. Her father let her go and she leaned to kiss him on his temple before standing upright. She cupped his face, he cupped her hand. They smiled softly to one another before she went upstairs.

* * *

The next morning, Dinah allowed herself to sleep in for a few minutes due to deciding to only take a quick rinse off shower instead of a full shower, having done so the night before. It was nice to wake up with those extra minutes. It helped against the soreness of her muscles. They weren't as bad as when they'd started training hard a few years ago: she was used to this by now, and so her muscles took less time to heal.

She got ready quickly and efficiently, deciding on a pair of skinny jeans, simple peachy, off-white blouse, and boots, and would wear her riding jacket for the coolness of the temperature.

She made it downstairs to find her father already up and bustling about. She hoped to God Reuben was up and had put the medication in his coffee. When Jacob saw her, he smiled warmly and approached to kiss the top of her head before heading to the living room with his already made coffee. She raised her brows incredulously.

"Morning sweetie," he said. "How'd you sleep?"

Dinah frowned at her father's cheerful disposition. "Fine. Well, in fact. What about you? You're unusually chipper this morning," she said as she started her breakfast. Her eyes flashed upward to see Reuben coming down the stairs completely dressed for the day. Relief calmed her when she realized that he was up and had already put medication in the coffee.

Noticing her look, he narrowed his eyes and lifted his shoulders in question. Dinah widened her eyes and sent them their father's way. Reuben frowned and looked at Jacob who hadn't noticed him yet. He frowned and turned back to her with perplexed expression.

Dinah rolled her eyes. "Dad? How'd you sleep?" she tried again.

"Hmm? Oh, good morning, Reuben," they watched as he stood, smiling, and approached his son and pulled him into a sturdy embrace, before pulling away and smiling at the both of them. He went back to the living room for his coffee.

"Dad, what happened?" Reuben crossed his arms over his chest, giving his father a stern look.

"Mmm, nothing really." Jacob sat down on the couch, placing his coffee on the coffee table and picked up a newspaper.

"You met someone didn't you?" Dinah stood and leaned her hip against the counter with narrowed eyes at her father.

"What?" he asked, looking back at them with wide eyes.

Dinah and Reuben smirked at one another and went about their business without answering any of their father's inquiries, and smiling to themselves. At that moment, Joseph came bounding downstairs tiredly still in his pajamas.

"Joseph, what are you doing? We've gotta leave soon," Dinah chided her brother as she put her cereal bowl in the sink.

He groaned tiredly and started his breakfast.

Needless to say, they were a little late that morning. When Dinah made it to class, she'd barely had enough time to exchange a meaningful glance with Stiles before class started. They'd parted with small smiles before heading to their next classes. In French, Lydia started chittering to her in French about boys and fashion, and Dinah listened because Lydia was entertaining. She had the feeling, though, that Lydia was trying to get her to talk more about herself so that she could uncover whether or not the rumors about Dinah were true. It was a clever ploy, and Dinah appreciated Lydia's tenacity, but she wouldn't say anything just yet. Dinah watched her words as she spoke so that she didn't give any real secrets away, but allowed Lydia to get to know her better.

Lydia asked if Dinah would be sitting with her at lunch, and Dinah said that she planned to sit with someone else. She could tell that Lydia wanted to ask who, but Dinah supposed Lydia either respected her enough to not ask, or truly didn't care. When they parted ways, Lydia smiled and bid her farewell in French before strutting off to her next class.

In chemistry, she sat behind Scott and Stiles. Stiles turned to start speaking with her, but Mr. Harris butted in and started class with a snide remark about their ability to disappoint him. Dinah hurriedly, in a hushed voice, told the boys that she would be sitting with them at lunch, but they were unable to respond.

Finally, it was lunch, and Dinah walked with purpose to the boys' table where, when they saw her, Stiles moved his stuff so that she could sit next to him. They were solemn and quiet when she sat and placed her tray.

"What is it?" she asked, slowly pulling out her plastic fork and her eyes switched from Scott's uncertain dark-chocolate eyes to Stiles's honey brown.

"I was telling Scott about what you saw," Stiles explained, turning back to his best friend.

"Is it true you saw it?" Scott asked doubtfully, but also a little fearfully.

Dinah nodded. "I didn't see the body, but I saw glowing red eyes in the brush. It had a dark, domineering presence and we felt it staring at us immediately.

"We?" Scott said around a bite of his pizza with narrowed eyes.

"Me and the tiger. If you don't trust my instincts, trust an animal's."

Scott looked warily at her for a moment, then nodded.

"Another thing bothers me," she said, and the boys looked back to her. "Whatever bit Scott, only wanted to bite him. If it felt threatened it would've taken him down after going on the defensive. This thing was only on the offense, right?" She looked to Scott for validation and he nodded. "So it was hunting you. But if it was hunting you, why'd it back off after biting you? Why did it not go for the kill?" she speculated.

She looked to Stiles who looked solemnly worried, and then Scott who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat with a terrified look on his face as he tried to stuff more pizza into his mouth.

Dinah narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She took a bite of her sandwich, keeping her eyes trained on Scott, which made him even more uncomfortable; his eyes kept shifting as he avoided eye contact.

"How's that bite, by the way?" she asked. Stiles—who'd been twitching nervously as he watched his best friend react to her stare—froze and put his pizza down to scrutinize Scott, catching on to Dinah's wavelength.

Scott froze completely, half a pizza slice stuffed into his mouth, his puppy dog eyes looked up from under his lashes. He quickly swallowed and cleared his throat.

"It's fine," he squeaked. "Healing."

"Uh-huh," Dinah drawled.

Scott shifted nervously again. "I asked Allison to Lydia's party and she said yes?" he suggested in an attempt to change the topic.

"Scott, how's the bite, really?" Stiles asked dubiously.

Scott was getting pale. Dinah's eyes narrowed to slits.

"It's gone, isn't it?" She demanded. Scott looked more scared than before. In a sudden and unexpected movement to the boys, she grabbed his left wrist, startling both of them. She pressed her first two fingers to the proper place to feel for pulse and asked again. "Is it gone, Scott?"

His already racing heart jumped as he shook his head "no," though she figured it was just a reflex, she knew he was lying. Slowly, she let him go.

"Sorry about that. I had to feel your pulse to tell if you were lying," she told him. "I think this is more serious than you're willing to acknowledge," she said. What happened next, surprised her: he snapped.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine. Nothing is happening to me. You don't even know me. Stop butting in like you're my friend," Scott nearly shouted with an angry expression. Dinah was taken aback and slightly affronted, but also a little wounded.

"I'm sorry," she said, sincerely, blushing, but refusing to look away. Scott growled in frustration and got up and started walking away.

"Scott, w-what are you—" Stiles started, but Scott cut him off.

"I'm heading to practice," he said and stormed off.

The two watched him go. Dinah looked to Stiles, who was staring after his friend in shock and concern. He looked back to her.

"I'm sorry. He's right. That was presumptuous of me," she admitted, feeling ashamed and angry and suddenly wasn't all that hungry.

"No, actually, you're right. There was blood on the bandage when he showed it to me. If it's gone then. . ." he trailed off and started twitching again, staring off into the distance, a frown pulling his features down in contemplation.

Dinah nodded. "How much research did you do last night?" she asked.

Stiles's eyes found hers again. "Not very much. It's just the basic stuff: the full moons, the wolfsbane, the silver bullets."

"But how much of that stuff is accurate?" she asked and Stiles paled. "I mean, a lot of that stuff has to have some sort of credibility due to the consistency of the myth. So the full moon is still in play, so is the wolfsbane. I don't know about the bullets, though. A silver bullet will kill anyone,"

"Right, right. So we'll keep the full moon and wolfsbane. I'll look up all theories and research." He pulled a piece of paper out of his bag hastily, ripping and crumpling it in the process before writing notes down.

Dinah nodded her head encouragingly. "Also, what kind of werewolf is he? Are any of the theories about what he looks like valid?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, pausing in his writing.

"I mean what are we working with? If he turns into a bipedal wolf monster, it'll be so much more difficult to corral him or chain him if he's a super rage monster. But if he turns into an actual wolf, or something more human, it'll be easier for all of us," she explained.

Stiles nodded his head eagerly in agreement before writing it down.

"What about powers?" he asked, his head snapping to meet her eyes with his.

"What kind of powers?"

"Well, he already has enhanced senses—"

"He does?" Dinah scrunched up her face in confusion.

Stiles nodded quickly and continued. "He's got better senses and reflexes, but does he have extra strength? Speed? Special wolfy magic that makes him fly, that could also make it more difficult."

Dinah snickered. "'Special wolfy magic?'"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes, special wolfy magic." He shook his head, smirking a little as he wrote the note down. "Now, all I gotta do is convince Scott that he might be a werewolf."

Dinah nodded, but then had a realization. "Oh, when is the next full moon?"

Stiles looked up wildly. "I don't know but—" he speedily yanked out his smartphone and started looking up the moon's waxing and waning schedule.

There was a few moments of waiting, and then, Dinah watched as his face went slack and pale in horror.

"What?" Dinah asked in dread.

He showed her the screen.

The next full moon would be in about seven hours. Which was during Lydia's party.

"Shit," she breathed.

"Shit, shit. He can't go to that party. He might phase in front of everyone," Stiles said, his pretty eyes wide in dismay and concern.

"You've really got to convince him then. But be careful. He might already be feeling the effects of the full moon, so he might be more aggressive," she warned. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. "I gotta go," she said, packing her things and Stiles nodded.

"What if—" Stiles said, but paused, uncertain. Dinah turned back to look at him questioningly. "What if this really is the supernatural?" he asked in a hushed whisper. "What if Scott really is turning into a werewolf?" Stiles looked up at her, eyes looking a little lost and very worried. His hands were trembling slightly, betraying his calm front. The expression made her chest compress uncomfortably and for a moment she got the feeling that she had no right to be butting with these boys' worries and concerns and pressed her lips together.

"I don't think we're dealing with 'what ifs' anymore," she told him honestly, and his fair face seemed sallow all of a sudden as he swallowed uncomfortably and nodded, standing shakily. Dinah abruptly found it hard to breathe. She made a silent promise to herself to watch over these two who so quickly captured her interest and care.

"I'll help keep an eye on him at the party tonight," she said quietly, and Stiles looked up at her gratefully.

"Yeah, thanks."

Dinah nodded and started to walk to her locker. Her heart felt heavy for some reason, and she bit her lip often. She recognized this as a sign of anxiety. Realizing her sudden investment, she almost laughed out loud at herself. She'd been to school all of three days and she was already stressed out. She'd been expecting it later in the school year, closer to finals, and here it was, so early in the year and for reasons she could never have guessed.

"Hey," someone said to her left, a hand touching her shoulder. Dinah gasped and whirled around, yanking her shoulder out from underneath the hand. Upon seeing that it was only Allison—who looked positively unnerved by Dinah's reaction—Dinah breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled.

"Sorry about that. I was lost in thought," Dinah explained light-heartedly.

Allison relaxed and smiled. "No, sorry, I guess I shouldn't have snuck up on you," she said and started to walk forward with Dinah and the two started together toward their lockers.

Dinah noticed Allison seemed to be in a chipper mood, smiling slightly, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

"So, I heard that Scott asked you to accompany him to Lydia's party," Dinah said with a playful smirk on her face.

Allison's eyes went wide as her head whipped to look at Dinah with a near horrified expression, her blush deepening and spreading across her face prettily.

"How did you—" Allison started, but Dinah interrupted her in a breezy manner.

"Scott told me and Stiles in an attempt to change the subject. Plus, you are in an extremely good mood," Dinah noted.

Allison smiled sheepishly and hid behind her hair to ease her embarrassment.

Dinah laughed. "Relax, it didn't work. He didn't get a chance to talk about it," Dinah said, peering around Allison's hair to get a good look at her. She gave her a reassuring smile. Allison relaxed and returned it. "Besides, I wanted to hear the details from you, if you're willing." Dinah looked forward with a lighthearted, yet somewhat smug smirk.

Allison laughed. "This is really embarrassing, but I hit a dog with my car and I freaked out," she said, blushing sheepishly. Dinah chuckled, and then prodded her to continue with a motion of her hand. Allison sighed. "Well, while I was freaking out like a total girl, I went to the vet and Scott took care of the dog and loaned me his shirt, and then asked me if I wanted to go with him to Lydia's party," Allison finished in a tone that suggested irritation and exasperation, but Dinah noted that it was at Allison and not herself.

Dinah smirked. "And clearly, you said yes." Allison blushed again. Dinah smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I don't know Scott well enough to give a full review of his character, but so far, he's a good guy." It was at this point that they made it to their lockers.

Allison laughed. "Thanks. You're coming right?"

Dinah nodded and opened the door to her locker. "I said I would go if I was free, and I am. I don't think Lydia would appreciate it if I skipped out on her without a good reason."

Allison nodded and rolled her eyes in agreement, pulling out the books necessary for her weekend homework. They closed their lockers at the same time.

"Come with me to study hall?" Allison offered and Dinah thought it over for a moment. It would be a great opportunity to make a new friend in this sweet girl. But Dinah was cautious about it. She wanted to become friends with Scott and Stiles through earning their trust, and them hers as she told them the truth about herself, but did she want that with Allison? As she thought, she decided, yes, she did. But not right away. She would have this relationship grow naturally.

Dinah smiled warmly at Allison warmly and nodded.

They walked together to study hall, talking about each other, and asking each other questions. When questions would get too personal toward Dinah, on the basis on keeping the illusion of the rumors, Dinah would reply cryptically with a smirk on her face to deflect it. Fortunately, Allison took it with a grain of salt.

Dinah, on the other hand, learned a lot about Allison. She learned that Allison was the daughter of an arms dealer to local authorities, and they shared a bonding moment over the commonality between their fathers. Allison then confessed that she was an archer and Dinah's eyes grew wide and said that she was a gunman, and they then bonded over their ability to handle weapons properly. Dinah kept it to herself that she could use more than just a handgun. But through their common backgrounds of moving around a lot, they shared travel stories and Allison seemed to grow more and more comfortable around Dinah, and it made Dinah's heart warm. She hadn't had a good friend since Japan, and even then, it was entirely different from this. To be able to experience this, this close friendship with another young woman was something Dinah knew she would cherish.

As they talked, they helped each other with homework, where Dinah learned that Allison was incredibly intelligent. But then learned it was because Allison had repeated a grade or two due to moving in the middle of the school year, or different requirements for different schools. And then she learned that Allison was a good year older than her. Dinah expressed her sympathy, and asked when Allison's birthday was, and she answered that it would be in about a month, and Dinah congratulated her. Allison seemed amazed that Dinah was able to keep up with her peers despite moving even more than Allison had. Dinah shrugged the compliment off and passed as being lucky.

Allison didn't seem very convinced.

But then the bell rang and the girls parted ways. They bid each other farewell, and Dinah went to her brother's car, in a good mood, before the party came to mind, and it diminished.

Allison would be going to the party with Scott. On the night of the full moon. When Scott might be turning into a raging monster. Whether or not Reuben or Joseph noticed that she was in a dark mood, they left her alone to her thoughts.

At home, she let her dad know that she would be going to Lydia's party down the street, and gave the okay as long as she didn't partake in the drinking. Dinah wasn't planning on it anyway.

While she was getting ready, Reuben knocked on her door. She was just putting on makeup when she gave the okay to enter. He gave her a solemn glare.

"What's going on?" he asked seriously.

So he noticed. Dinah sighed and paused her applying makeup. "It's nothing you need to worry about," she answered honestly, meeting his eyes. She pleaded with her eyes for him to drop the subject. It took a full minute for him to do so.

He nodded, then hesitated, his look shifting to a slightly pleading and concerned one. "Just remember that we're here for you if you need us," he said, and Dinah smiled sadly and nodded. They both knew that she would try to keep her brothers out of it as long as she could. This time, she had good reason to do so.

He started to leave, but turned back around to tell her, "Remember to put throwing knives up your sleeves if you're going to wear that," he said, smirking a little before leaving.

"I was planning on it anyway!" She called after him. She heard his bass chuckle move down the hall.

She finished getting ready quickly. She wore jean shorts over lacy fishnet stockings, a loose collared, bright red, three-quartered sleeve shirt, with a black oxford jacket to hide the small throwing knives that she strapped to her forearms. She wore tan boots that came just above her ankles on her feet with a chain connecting her lower and upper earrings.

And then she was done. She headed downstairs to kiss her father's cheek as he told her to be careful and aware of her surroundings, to which she said she would. Reuben and Joseph sent her off with a list of things to do, or not do, like piss of the in-crowd. She acquiesced with a roll of her eyes and a wave as she headed down the street.

Lydia's house was just down the street of hers, so it only took a couple minutes to arrive.

Dinah had left early in order to make it before the party. This way she could help out and get to know Lydia a little better.

When she arrived, she approached the front door and rang the doorbell with no hesitation. She waited a few moments before the door came open.

Lydia stared at her from the other side of the doorway with a confused expression on her face. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

"Dinah. You're early." Lydia's tone was accusatory and questioning.

Dinah shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to see if I could help set up," she answered honestly.

"Uh-huh," Lydia voiced, unconvinced. "Why?" she demanded.

Dinah tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. The more she thought about it, the more she didn't want to tell the truth. But she would do so anyway. Sooner or later, Lydia would've discovered the truth anyway.

"I just wanted to get to know you better," Dinah said with a shrug and a thoughtful grimace. Lydia eased her narrowed eyes a fraction, and her posture started to relax. Dinah continued in French. "_Nous pourrions avoir nos conversations en français, si vous le souhaitez_." -_We could have our conversations in French, if you like_.

And Lydia's countenance cracked. Her posture relaxed and she laughed an easy chuckle. "_Merci_," she said, and stepped aside to let Dinah through the threshold and Dinah stepped in, Lydia closing the door behind her.

"So," Lydia started as she led Dinah to her room. "_Pourquoi cet intérêt soudain pour moi_?" -_Why the sudden interest in me? _

Dinah considered answering with the typical "why not?" excuse, but decided that again, the truth would be better placed here. "_Vous êtes amis avec Allison, non_?" -_You're friends with Allison, right?_ Lydia looked over her shoulder to nod. "_Comme un ami commun de Allison, je pense que ce serait à la fois de notre intérêt d'être amis._" -_As a mutual friend of Allison's, I think it would be both in our best interests to be friends as well. _

Lydia paused in front of her door. Dinah stepped onto the landing and approached nonchalantly, watching Lydia purse her lips and look to the ceiling in thought.

"Hmm," she hummed. "_Je suis d'accord_." -_I agree_. "_Une amitié serait plus bénéfique_." -_A friendship would be most beneficial_.

Dinah smirked. She knew that Lydia wouldn't be able to resist an opportunity to get to know the competition. It was unfortunate that Dinah knew that Lydia considered her to be competition, when Dinah wasn't actively competing for anything. But sometimes, that was what girls needed: some friendly competition to keep them on their "A" game.

Lydia led Dinah into her room, and the long evening began. She first evaluated Dinah's outfit, and then deciding that there was nothing she could do to get Dinah to change—for one, Lydia's clothes were too small for Dinah to wear, Lydia being 5'3" and Dinah 5'8"—because there was really nothing wrong with what Dinah had chosen to wear. While they did not share the same fashion sense, Dinah knew that if she dressed according to a certain fashion style, Lydia couldn't complain. So far, the only problem Lydia had with Dinah's style was her multiple piercings in her ears that she deemed "excessive and tacky," but Dinah shrugged it off good naturedly and made a sardonic comeback, to which Lydia huffed, and then started bossing Dinah around. She was there to help anyway, so Dinah didn't mind.

Jackson would be over in about an hour to help with the lighting, so for the meantime, Dinah helped set up the snacks and drinks on a table outside, as well as other decorations while Lydia hid the valuables so that idiots like Greenberg and Jenson didn't try anything stupid with the valuables. They would be doing something stupid anyway, so it was best to discourage their breaking anything that would have Lydia grounded.

When Jackson came around, Dinah was the one that opened the door. When he saw her, he looked profoundly confused and slightly annoyed by her presence. When Dinah explained that showed up early to help out, he looked at her like she had grown a second head before striding past her to find his girlfriend. When Lydia explained that it was fine for Dinah to be there, he sucked it up and started with the lighting. Dinah tried to help him out, but he barked at her to quit it and she decided to help him sneakily by subtly pushing what he needed closer to him. It was funny to see him like this, to have such a quiet power over him if only for a few moments.

Soon, the party began and people were herded in by the dozens into the backyard where the majority of the party would be. The crowd was enough that Dinah had to squeeze past many of the party-goers and dancers to traverse throughout the house.

She spotted Scott and Allison standing at the entrance of the backyard, staring in slight fear, stepping closer to one another in support. Dinah approached them so that they would notice her. The both of them smiled at a familiar and friendly face.

"Hey, you two! I'm glad you made it," she said. Allison smiled with a slight blush and Scott smiled nervously.

"Thanks, Dinah. I didn't think there'd be this many people here," Allison commented, and Dinah and Scott chuckled a little.

"Well, it's Lydia. She likes to go all out," Scott explained, expression falling back to the enchanted look that he always had when Allison was around.

"That she does," Dinah acknowledged with a roll of her eyes. "Well, I'm going to go mingle. Be wary of the punch. It's been spiked, so don't drink too much," Dinah warned as she walked past them with a little smirk.

The couple called their acknowledgement after her and Dinah chuckled and shook her head to herself. Dinah mingled with the party-goers, putting off those that hit on her, and stayed away from the spiked punch. All the while she kept Scott and Allison in her peripherals at all times. Every time her eye caught them dancing together, it brought a smile to her face.

They were just so gosh darn cute together. Scott literally had googly eyes for her, and Allison had sweet-heart eyes for him.

After walking around for a while, she finally bumped into Stiles, who looked quite dapper in his pink dress shirt and tie.

He was busy talking to a girl she hadn't met, and so she walked to him from the side, where he finally caught her in his peripherals and looked to her. He did a double take, and then his eyes raked up her body quickly before meeting hers.

"Hey," he said, uncertainty creeping into his voice, as though he didn't know how to talk to her in a non-school setting. She smirked at this, then turned to the girl he had been chit-chatting.

"Dinah," she said, holding out her hand to the girl. She looked uncertain, as if she didn't think that Dinah would be one to introduce herself to someone like her.

"Rebecca," she said hesitantly, taking Dinah's hand and shaking it once gently.

"It's nice to meet you," Dinah said, and released the girl's hand. Facing the both of them, she asked, "How do you guys like the party so far?"

"It's great," Stiles started nervously. "Yeah, it's great. Lots of people and punch," he cleared his throat as he grimaced awkwardly.

Dinah narrowed her eyes at him before turning to Rebecca. "I'm borrowing him for a second," she said and started dragging him away by his sleeve. He made a few noises of protest and questioning, calling her name as he let her lead him away. When she stopped and rounded on him, it was sudden and he jumped, startled, and flailed his arms comically.

"What is it? Did something happen? You're more nervous than usual," Dinah accused and Stiles stared, dumbfounded, mouth hanging open before he snapped out of it and shook his head.

Stepping closer, he said quietly to her, "I tried to get him to stay home, but when I started to call Allison to cancel the date he just . . ." he trailed off, and Dinah raised her brows incredulously.

"He just what, Stiles?" she prompted expectantly.

He seemed reluctant, and his twitchy behavior returned as he rubbed the back of his head. "He got aggressive. Tried punching me in the face, but caught himself and went after my chair instead," he said, but Dinah could tell that he was withholding.

"Stiles, what happened? Tell me all of it."

He sighed and moved closer. If the situation weren't so serious, she would've blushed and tingled at the close proximity.

"There were claw marks on the back of my chair."

Dinah shivered and paled. She hoped Scott just had sharp nails, but all the little quirks about what was happening, she was sure that Scott was what she thought he was. She sighed. "We'll just keep an—"

She was interrupted by the very boy they had been discussing. Scott came barreling through the crowd, pushing Stiles into Dinah and cutting off her reply. He was pale and sweating and seemed to be breathing hard, as if he were in great pain.

"Scott, you okay buddy?" Stiles called after him. Scott ignored him and kept pushing through the crowd as fast as he could.

Stiles's pale face became pallid, and she pushed Stiles to the direction of the door. His head snapped back to meet her gaze, fear and worry marring his features.

"Go," she commanded with certainty. Stiles only hesitated a millisecond before he was off after his best friend.

Dinah sighed, and turned back to find Allison. Her eyes scanned the people until she saw a lone, pretty girl who looked panicked and nervous, biting her lip and scanning the crowd looking for someone. Scott, no doubt.

Then, Dinah saw an older young man walk up to Allison with a friendly smile that she immediately didn't trust. She pushed her way through the crowd until she could catch what the man was saying.

"I'm Derek. I'm a friend of Scott's."

"Really?" Dinah cut in as she approached, standing next to Allison, her posture taking on a protective one. "He never mentioned you to me."

Derek's chuckled sounded like it was supposed to be embarrassed; it seemed derisive.

"He talks to me all the time," Derek said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Allison, having regained some confidence, spoke up. "Prove it," she demanded.

"He told me about the pen he lent you, for one," he said as if this were the only explanation they needed.

Allison remained skeptical, but her posture relaxed. After a moment, she nodded and said, "Okay."

Dinah whirled on her. "Okay? Okay what?"

Allison turned to Dinah. "Scott bailed, so Derek offered me a ride."

Dinah was flabbergasted. Her eyebrows flew upward as she processed this. In her moment of stunned silence, Allison started to depart with Derek, who'd already walked off.

"I could give you a ride. You don't need to go with him," Dinah said, catching up to Allison.

Allison sighed tiredly. "No, that's alright. I already said yes, so I'll—" she started to turn but Dinah grabbed her hand.

"As cliched as 'Stranger Danger' may seem, it is a very real thing," Dinah protested.

Allison presser her lips together and started to pull away again. "I'll be fine," she argued, then pulled her hand out of Dinah's but didn't get very far when Dinah grabbed Allison's wrist, using more strength this time. Allison looked surprised and a little affronted.

"I strongly advise against this," Dinah said with a severity that shocked even her. Allison sighed again and gently pressed her fingers to Dinah's gripping hand.

"I'll be fine," she reassured.

Dinah pursed her lips incredulously at her friend before using the other hand to reach up her sleeve to pull out one of the throwing knives. She showed it to Allison, who stared wide-eyed at it.

Dinah pressed it into the hand that she was holding. "If he tries anything on you, use this." She let go. Allison stared at it, mouth hanging open.

"But, Dinah—"

Dinah shook her head. "Just in case. I'm sure he won't try anything. But keep that in your pants pocket, blade facing inward so you don't cut your wrist. Don't put it in your jacket, you could lose it."

Allison's warm brown eyes found Dinah's bright blue, and she nodded sincerely, smiling smally before going off to find Derek.

Dinah watched Allison go before pulling out her phone and calling Stiles. He picked up during the second ring.

"Dinah, hey," he said, his voice audibly worried and Dinah's stomach dropped.

"Is it happening?" she asked, and Stiles, who knew exactly what she meant, heaved a heavy sigh.

"I think so. Scott booked it home, so I'm driving over to see if he's okay."

Dinah nodded. "Good. But we have a problem," she started and heard Stiles grumble in frustration at the news.

"What?" he demanded shortly.

"A guy named Derek claiming to be Scott's friend offered Allison a ride and she accepted."

There was a pause. "Goddammit! That son of a—" he paused. "Why did you let her go?!" he shouted.

"I tried to stop her!" she cried into the phone. "But I couldn't very well tie her up and hide her in a closet. She chose to go. But don't worry too much. I don't think Derek will try anything. I was a witness and the last person to see her with him, so he'd be the only suspect if anything does happen. Plus, I gave her a little knife to protect herself if he tried."

Another pause.

"You gave her a— Where the hell'd you get a knife?"

"I brought throwing knives and hid them up my sleeve. I always bring some sort of weapon just in case."

"Yeah, well, I guess that's a good thing, considering Derek's a werewolf."

Dinah blinked once as she processed this, then cursed under her breath. "Why didn't you two dunderheads think to tell me about_ another _werewolf?"

"Because we don't know for sure that he is one?" he suggested. "He's just creepy with some serious serial killer eyes." He sighed. "I'll stop by Allison's place after I find Scott."

"Yes. Please do that."

"I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks."

* * *

The party had ended on a high note. Despite Dinah's worrying over Scott, she tried to keep her attitude light and optimistic. It helped her keep her pleasant mask on for Lydia's guests. Finally, when the party was over, Dinah helped Lydia and Jackson clean the house. It didn't take too long, fortunately, considering Lydia had trained the student body to respect her and her parties, so the partiers didn't get too rowdy.

While she was cleaning, she got a call from Stiles with the news.

Scott was a werewolf. And so was Derek.

At the news, Dinah's stomach dropped. Her realization at how serious this situation had become was stunning and she was still for a good while, glaring off into the distance with a contemplative expression.

She felt Lydia notice her stare and turn to look at her, but Dinah ignored her for the time being.

But then, Stiles continued with good news: Allison had made it home safely. Dinah breathed a sigh of relief, letting her body relax. At least Derek was smart enough to not try and harm Allison.

"But we have a bigger problem," Stiles continued. Dinah sighed, this time, tiredly.

"What?"

"Derek did it. He's the one that bit Scott."

Wait, what? No. Dinah scrunched up her face in a disbelieving grimace.

"There is no way that it is Derek," she said with finality, pressing her phone to her shoulder so she could continue to clean.

"That's what he said," Stiles countered.

"Who? Derek or Scott?"

There was a pause. "Well, Scott—"

"So Derek never actually said that it was him?"

"He doesn't need to!" Stiles argued petulantly.

Dinah sighed into the phone. "Whatever, Stiles. I'm not going to believe it until I hear it from Derek himself," she said, moving to hold the phone to her ear with her hand.

Stiles sighed on the other side. "Fine, but I don't trust him."

"Never said you had to. Good night, Stiles."

"Yeah, g'night."

They hung up. Dinah stared at her phone for a moment before putting it away, thoughts about the future plaguing her mind as she finished cleaning. She left Lydia's house with a hug goodbye, and walked down the road to her home.

Stiles kept Dinah updated throughout the weekend. He'd found Scott the next morning, walking shirtless in the chilly morning, covered in dirt that had come from running about in the forest. And then he tacked on more bad news at the revelation of werewolf hunters.

Werewolf hunters. Of course. If there were werewolves, then there must be hunters. It was the natural order of things to keep the balance she supposed, the "yin" and the "yang."

Stiles vented his frustration at the fact that Scott was most worried about Allison hating him for ditching. Dinah told Stiles to tell him not to worry, as long as he had a good apology, she would give him a good word in his stead.

And she did. On Monday morning, Allison kept trying to avoid Scott, but Dinah told her to give him a chance.

After school, she met Stiles out front, in his Lacrosse gear, waiting for Scott and practice. He was standing back, watching his best friend sit on a bench and wait for Allison.

And then, the moment of truth. She passed by him, they spoke, they smiled dreamily at each other, and then she was taken away by her father, a stern-looking, blonde man with a red SUV. Allison smiled at Scott, who seemed frozen where he stood.

Dinah and Stiles approached him cautiously.

"You okay, dude?" Stiles asked, patting him on the shoulder. Scott let out a strained groan of frustration.

Dinah's eyes found Allison's father's eyes. He gave a small, almost predatory smile at Scott and Dinah understood.

_Argent_. It was French for silver. _Silver_ bullets killed werewolves, right? No. _Argent_ bullets killed werewolves.

She almost laughed aloud.

Instead, she smiled and waved.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**I know it seems kind of convenient that Dinah can speak French fluently, but I have reasons for that. **

**Anyway, what'd you guys think? Please review, it helps writers grow. ;p**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Till next time!**


	6. Reaching Out to Me

******I am so sorry this took so long. However, I have a legitimate excuse: I have a stable job that sucked hours away from me, and I could only work on this during the hour I had free in the morning before my Tuesday and Thursday classes. Now that I don't have class for a few weeks, I'll be working a little faster. ******

******I was going to do a cool reveal at the end, but i************t has come to my attention that I might have to put a disclaimer now rather than later regarding my chapter titles. I've been using the lyrics to the song "Lateralus" by Tool, and before I get into trouble, the titles to the chapters are also not mine.******

******Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OC's and ****only**** my OC's. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine.******

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5\. Reaching Out to Me

That day, Dinah was assigned to the rescue portion of the Preserve. It was a medium sized brick building where they housed the abandoned or abused animals that they either found or were brought by the authorities. As much as she loved working with the wild animals, she loved working with the rescued animals just as much. Some of them really needed their help in order to get back on their feet before they were sent to pet stores to be either sold or adopted.

They had a great assortment of animals so quickly, even though the preserve had only been open for several months. They already had enough animals that it took several hours just to take care of a single room. There was the reptile room which held both the reptiles and the rodents that were sent to be either sold as feeders, or feeding the snakes themselves, the bird room, the cat room, the dog room, and the small animals room. Out of all the rooms, Dinah, for some reason, preferred the reptile room.

Don't get her wrong, she loved the others as well, and it sure couldn't beat playing with the wolves or Shere Khan, but, there was something about the reptiles that really intrigued her.

Especially the snakes.

The ones that they had were mostly docile, and the majority of them weren't venomous. The only venomous one they had was the sand boa, and he was only partially venomous, and didn't bite hard. She'd equate the bite to a bee sting: uncomfortable, and a little painful, but she wasn't allergic, so the swelling went down quickly. And there was something about being bitten by a snake that made her feel tough. Well, tougher than she already was. It was illogical, but she really didn't care.

Her favorite, by far, was the biggest ball python that had been found in a dumpster. Ricky and Elena, coworkers at the preserve, were the ones to respond to the call, and brought him to the rescue ward. Turned out the snake was as docile as a kitten. Even during feeding time. As long as one kept their hands away from the mouth and didn't smell like the rodent he would be eating.

She was finishing cleaning his aquarium with him curled around her neck, loosely hanging on her body as its only source of heat. She moved quickly, but as smoothly as possible so she wouldn't jostle the friendly giant that was curled around her neck. If he felt insecure about his position in any way, he would curl up tighter. He wouldn't strangle, just make her a little uncomfortable with an uncomfortable snake trying to find security in his moving, living branch.

The problem with snakes was that no matter how much time someone spent with one of them, holding them, socializing them, they would never be able to remember their "person," their feeder or provider. They were just a feeder or provider. And if the snake was big enough, humans were potential food if hungry enough, regardless if you've owned them for years.

But still, she liked snakes. They were cool. Not as cool as wolves or tigers, but still pretty cool. As she finished, her mind went back to the events of that day.

She started snickering.

It was just too clichéd.

Her mind kept reeling with questions. _How in the world did that manage to happen? Was the world really so predictable to put those two together? Or is the world just trying to be ironic?_

Somehow, someway, Scott and Allison were meant to be.

How did she know this?

Because they were supposed to be mortal enemies, that's how.

The werewolf and the werewolf hunter.

How _poetic_.

It was so "Romeo and Juliet" that she almost didn't know what to think. Part of her—a very small part of her—was worried that death might be involved. But she didn't think that the world would do something _that_ clichéd.

She snickered again.

She wouldn't be able to get that out of her head. She'd start calling Scott "Romeo" and Allison "Juliet" if she wasn't careful. And maybe even Stiles, "Mercutio."

She shook her head. Considering Scott and Stiles being inseparable (and the fact that she kind of refused to think of Stiles dying), she'd probably end up calling them nicknames due to the observation that those two were never really without the other. Except when they didn't have the same class.

She finished cleaning the terrarium and replaced the snake carefully, removing him from her neck and quickly wrapping him around her arms so he felt secure. She could feel him squeeze her forearms where he was placed as she moved him. She quickly put him down near the floor of the soil covered terrarium between his hide and his water.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he released and eased onto the soil and slithered into his shelter. The whole process probably took a good five minutes. She covered the terrarium and replaced it on the shelf with the other reptiles.

She stood up and walked to the door, but as she reached for the handle, she felt a presence. Someone was standing outside the door, waiting for her. It was sort of familiar, but she couldn't place it with a door between them.

Just to be on the safe side, she turned the knob to release the door, and quickly kicked the door open.

She saw a dark figure scramble to get out of the way of the flying door and recognized it as Derek.

Dinah sighed heavily and caught the door as it came back to its place from the force of her kick.

By this time, Derek had regained himself and whirled on her, glaring furiously.

"What was that for?" He growled, nearly yelling.

Dinah shrugged and leaned on the door frame. "I wasn't sure it was you. I don't have anything on me and what if it was that wolf-monster-thing?" Derek's countenance faltered and he seemed more contemplative. "Unless of course, _you're_ that wolf-monster-thing." Dinah watched him closely. But Derek was more guarded than the White House. His eyes betrayed nothing, the mask was firmly in place. But a tight smirk worked its way onto his face.

"I keep telling Scott that the bite is a gift. I'm just trying to help. He'll thank me later." Derek said, taking a step closer. The smirk on his face was a bit more natural, but Dinah didn't buy it.

"That tells me nothing."

Derek shrugged.

Dinah stood up straight and raked her eyes over his face, trying to determine his motives solely through the expressions, or the lack thereof, on his face. She pressed her lips together when only a little bit of knowledge came to mind.

"You came to see what I know, didn't you?"

Derek's countenance sobered. "I'm trying to help," he defended.

"Help who?" she countered. "Scott? Yourself? Your kind? The wolf-monster-thing? And I _really_ don't think that's you, just to make my position clear."

Derek looked profoundly confused. "What?"

Dinah sighed and shook her head, slouching tiredly. All this evasiveness from this guy was exhausting. He knew exactly what she was talking about, she was sure. So what was he trying to hide? Or was he just trying to be all "mysterious mentor" on Scott?

"Look, Derek—"

She was cut off by his sudden movement away from her and more to her right. She froze in response, her eyes going wide. She watched him carefully for any signs of danger. His glaring eyes were fixed on the ground by her feet. Frowning, confused, Dinah followed his line of site to find one of the smaller ball pythons slithering leisurely by her feet.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, catching the incredibly cautious look on Derek's face. So he didn't like snakes, huh? A small smirk pulled a corner of her lips upward. She bent down to carefully pick up the snake who started to move a little faster in an effort to escape. She worked her hands to get a good grip on him. Once she had a good hold on him, he wrapped himself around her hand and arm, moving about, sniffing the air with his flickering tongue.

She stood up straight and leaned against the door frame. Derek's face was priceless. He looked cautious, careful, angry, apprehensive all in one glare. She lifted her brows as if to challenge him to say something.

With a sigh, he relaxed his posture _slightly_ and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So?" Dinah asked him. "What do you want?"

He stayed silent for a moment. "Did you know he started phasing in the middle of practice today?" he said in a deadly tone. His eyes were hard as he watched her carefully.

Irritation bubbled up in Dinah's gut. It quickly turned into anger. Her lips pressed together in a line as she tried not to show just how mad she was that those two idiots didn't think to tell her immediately after it happened. In truth, she was even a little offended. But she guessed it was because those two were more closely knit than conjoined twins. She supposed it would take a lot more to gain their trust.

"_Idiots_," she scathed under her breath.

Derek chuckled once in a show of bland agreement. "Yes. Those two are complete idiots," he started, and her eyes snapped back to his, narrowed to slits. He stepped closer, countenance still solemn, but his posture was a little more relaxed, and she knew what was coming next. "But you're not." Yup, there it is. "And they wo—"

"Won't listen to _you_, so you're hoping they'll listen to me?" she guessed. His expression soured and he nodded his head once. This, of course, was one of the funniest things she'd heard. She snorted before laughing out loud in throaty chortles.

"This isn't funny," Derek said in a dark tone and dropped his arms and stepped closer in what was supposed to be a threatening display. She calmed down enough to address him.

"No, it isn't. But you know what is? The fact that you thought that either of those two dunderheads would listen to me. Isn't it obvious? They don't want me involved, as proven by the fact that they just so _happened_ to forget to tell me about Scott's little 'mishap.' I'm an intruder on their little world. They aren't going to do anything I say. Especially since we're not friends yet." Dinah almost winced at the wistful tone her voice had taken. And while this seemed to mollify Derek's glaring anger, Dinah felt that he thought of her as weak.

She hated feeling weak.

He stepped back and nodded once. "If Scott goes on that field again, if he plays that game Saturday, he'll expose us. And if the hunters are there, they'll kill him."

Dinah stiffened, and eyed Derek warily. His tone was serious, but there was something about that look in his eyes that revealed how much he cared.

Or at least, that was how Derek saw it.

_Pack_.

That was the word that came to mind when she saw the look in his eyes. Derek was just trying to look out for his own.

But that was just the problem.

Derek didn't consider Scott his own yet. To Derek, Scott was a liability, a danger to Derek and anyone else like him due to Scott's lack of experience.

Dinah understood. She really did.

But she felt that Derek was going about this the wrong way. But, just like Scott, she doubted that Derek would actually listen to her.

She sighed and shook her head, but turned away to put the snake away that had been slithering around on her arm, trying to find a place of warmth while trying not to fall or slip to the ground. All the while, she ignored Derek. He followed her into the reptile room, albeit hesitantly, to the terrarium.

When she opened it, and was about to put the snake away, he gripped her arm in a vice-like hold. She froze and tensed her body for a confrontation, but didn't turn her head, choosing to watch him from her peripherals.

"If Scott plays that game Saturday, you better be prepared for whatever will happen. Because, if—" He shook his head, "—_when_ Scott shifts on that field, then there will be more than just chaos: there will be blood."

And then he let her go and she guessed he booked it out of the room, because he was gone a second later. Her head snapped to follow him out the door, but, he already disappeared.

Dinah frowned as she pondered how a werewolf could have such ninja-like stealth to be able to leave a room in a second flat without a trace.

She sighed _again_ and finished putting the snake away.

_Great_, she thought, _That's just perfect. Now I have to worry about Derek killing Scott._

She shook her head as she headed out the door. Derek probably wouldn't kill Scott. And while Scott would probably shift on the field, she doubted many would notice, considering all the gear that he wore. But that wouldn't stop Scott from trying to kill someone on the field.

Derek was right. If Scott shifted on the field, it would be dangerous to not only Derek and other werewolves, but for the lacrosse players on the field.

But this presented another problem.

If Scott was resistant to his best friend about going to the party, he would be even more so to her.

She wouldn't be able to do it.

The sickening feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her: her heart raced and her breathing shortened, causing her to become a little dizzy. She leaned up against a nearby tree. She wondered for a short moment how she even got that far outside, but it passed as she tried to form a plan to get Scott to agree to stay off the field.

* * *

Stiles answered during the silence between the first and second ring. "Dinah! Hey, sorry. There's a lot going on right now and—"

"Like Scott almost shifting on the field during practice?" she questioned darkly. Stiles could hear the challenge in her tone and the silence that followed was tense and confused.

"How did you know about that?"

Dinah let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Guess who visited me at work today?"

"Who?" he asked warily. She could practically feel him shift on the other side of the line.

"Well, he's tall, dark, handsome, with a terrible attitude and, I think the phrase was, 'some serious serial killer eyes,'" she said sardonically and flopped onto her bed that she'd been pacing beside.

Stiles sighed on his end and cursed under his breath. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you or anything, right? Were you alone? Did anyone else see him? What else did he say? Did he—"

"Stiles!" she called to grab his attention. He stopped and sucked in a breath. "Geez, one at a time."

"Sorry," he said, sounding a little contrite, but continued as if that hadn't happened. "So, what happened?"

Dinah sighed before regaling her tale of what happened. After depicting every little detail at her new friend's request, there was a long silence. Dinah was hesitant to ask, but there was something about the situation that had her itching to spill the question.

"Stiles," she started hesitantly. "Why didn't you call me and tell me what happened with Scott and Jackson? I mean, I know you couldn't have called right away, but I waited for several hours for you to call. . . Were you two really thinking of keeping me out of this?"

There was a long, heavy, tense silence. And then Stiles sighed and began to answer. "Dinah," he started warily, "Scott tried to kill me today. I got to the locker room while he was still shifting, but once he shifted, he tried to kill me. His best friend. . ." He trailed off and Dinah could hear the emotions being choked back in his voice. He was shaken up about it, really troubled. Dinah's heart went out to him, and she understood him and his fear. But she couldn't sympathize. She'd been in terrifying situations before, but for some reason, she was able to make her fear work for her.

Her father called it talent, Dinah called it good parenting.

Dinah nodded, despite talking on the phone. "I get it," she said quietly. "But I'm strong, Stiles. I can handle it."

Stiles seemed to groan in frustration. "Dinah," he sighed. "I get that you're all 'strong, independent woman' and everything, but this time, it's too dangerous. I—we can't have anyone else getting hurt because of this."

Dinah cut him off before he could say more. "Stiles, when I said I'm strong, I meant that physically. Yes, I'm strong mentally and am handling this better than most—if not all—people would. But I've been training for this kind of thing all my life."

"You've been training to handle teenaged werewolves?" Stiles interrupted, tone incredulous.

Dinah sighed. "No, Stiles, of course not. But I _have_ been training for high-risk situations: situations in which I could be killed. Usually the danger is guns or bombs, but this is no different."

"Wait, what? _Bombs_—"

"Nevermind that right now," she snapped, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation and frustration. "My point is that I can handle danger."

"But this is different from any danger that any of us has come across!" Stiles said, exasperated.

"I know! But I have to do something!"

"No! Dinah, I get that you're trying to help. But we hardly know you! It wouldn't be fair to you to get you involved in our problems, so please. . . Stay out of it."

And the resounding click effectively ended that conversation.

Dinah held the phone to her ear a moment longer. Frustration simmered in her gut as she tossed the phone onto her bed behind her.

And here she was, just starting to like the guy and he does this.

_No_, she told herself. No matter how much she wanted to help. . . .

But, was that _really_ what she wanted? To help?

Something about that didn't sit right with her. Not the helping part. It was the fact that she actually didn't care about helping. This was never about helping them. It was barely even about friendship.

So then, what was this really about? What did she want out of this unorthodox relationship with these boys?

She groaned in frustration, falling back against her bed, her head hitting her tossed cellphone. She ignored the twinge of pain easily.

Pain.

It was just such a pain to deal with. Pun intended. It was so easy to avoid. All she had to do was override it with another thought and then it was gone. Sometimes, she wondered if she truly ever felt any.

Even when her mom died. . .

"Dinah," Reuben called from her door. She sat up and looked at him. She noticed him flinch when her eyes met his and she vaguely wondered why. She narrowed her eyes when he hesitated before stepping in and closed the door behind him.

He was concerned for her._ Why_?

She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She blinked once.

"I'm fine."

Reuben glared incredulously. He sighed and walked forward, his posture relaxed. He sat down next to her, and his heaviness dipped into the bed, angling her seat so gravity pulled her toward him.

"Y'know, when you're antsy, you get distant." He looked down at her from the corner of his eye.

She frowned. "Distant?"

He nodded. "From everything. You don't know how to deal with raw emotion, so you shut it out."

Dinah looked away. "Is that so?" she murmured.

He was right, she supposed. But if she didn't have to feel troublesome emotions, why should she bother?

She heard him sigh next to her before tossing his heavy arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side.

"Whatever this is, you can get through it. You're tough like that."

Her face twitched into a confused grimace. "I know. Why is that relevant?" She looked up to search his face.

He was staring down at her gravely. "You'll see," was all he said before releasing her and walking out the room.

What was her brother thinking? He was so cryptic sometimes. Trying to understand him would take too much effort on her part so she decided to let it go.

She glanced at the clock. It was late. Her lips pressed together in a line as she considered retiring for the night. At first, she'd wanted to do research to prove to the boys that she could be more helpful than they were willing to admit.

But now that she knew that _neither_ of them wanted her help, or to be her friend, why should she bother? At this point, whatever trouble those two would get into was none of her business.

She would sleep then.

She finished readying herself for bed and crawled under the covers, letting sleep take over.

* * *

_She was falling. She knew because her body was weightless. She was constantly aware of the wait. She knew what was coming: the jolt. That moment right before hitting the ground. Not actually hitting it, but that millisecond before her body hits._

_But this time, it wasn't the "bottom" that she would be hitting. No, she didn't know where her mind was going. Her eyelids were heavy, but she could still keep them open long enough to see the swirling colors above her like fire, slowly getting darker as she fell. She had the odd sense that she was falling through a wormhole of some kind. Every so often, an image would flash behind her closed lids when they fell shut due to their heaviness._

_Fear._

_Adrenaline pumped through her veins._

_She was not supposed to be falling like this. She wasn't supposed to be falling asleep. She needed to keep her eyes open. She fought the pull, she fought so hard, but as the darkness kept pulling her down into its depths, the heavier her lids were, the stronger the darkness tried to overcome her mind. _

_She couldn't succumb to it._

_Because there would be no jolt, she realized. There was no bottom. _

_She needed to awaken. _

_NOW._

* * *

Her breath halted in a gasp and her body stiffened.

_What the hell was that_? She asked herself. She sat up in bed and looked about the room. It was still dark. Her eyes found the clock. It read: 5:43 am.

She sighed, allowing her body to relax.

Her sub-consciousness was trying to tell her something, but as always, she had no idea what it was trying to say. It never seemed to want to tell her something candidly. But that seemed to be the way of things, didn't it.

She scoffed.

She hated clichés.

But usually this meant that she needed to think and reprioritize what she needed to do.

She sighed and sat up fully in her bed and leaned back against the headboard.

Problem No. 1 (the biggest problem, really): Her relationship with Scott and Stiles. They had a point in trying not to involve her. She understood what their motives were, but truthfully she couldn't really understand why the boys had them in the first place. But then again, she rarely understood human behavior.

This, of course, was why she was in psychology classes, but that can be discussed at a

later time.

So, she needed to work her way around the boys' desire to keep everyone safe. She needed to keep her distance, but be close enough to watch over them.

Allison.

She would be closer friends with Allison. It had dual purposes, this plan which suited her needs just fine. Truthfully, she hated this plan. She preferred to be straightforward about this kind of thing. Normally, she would approach whoever and confront them personally, one-on-one. But this operation required tact.

She would have to go the long way around until they truly needed her.

She hated waiting. Patience was her weakest virtue. At least, according to her brothers: her brothers knew her better as a person than she did herself.

She laid her head against the pillow.

Why was she even up? Didn't she have a nightmare?

She couldn't even remember.

* * *

She chose to stay close to Allison and Lydia that day. Before first period, she caught up with Allison at her locker. Dinah smiled at her and Allison returned the smile while taking out her books. Dinah closed her locker and opened her mouth to say something, but Lydia swooped in and interrupted without any hesitation, standing in between Dinah and Allison with her back toward the former.

"You seriously need to control that new boy toy of yours," Lydia demanded of Allison, who therefore blushed as her face scrunched up in confusion.

"W-what?" Allison asked, searching for help through eyeing Dinah desperately.

"Yeah, what about Scott?" Dinah asked, stepping up to stand next to Lydia and gain her attention, meanwhile causing Allison to blush harder at the mention of Scott's name.

Lydia looked exasperated at Dinah's intruding on her conversation, but answered her anyway, turning to lead them down the hall. Dinah and Allison followed apprehensively.

"That little freak rammed into my boyfriend and dislocated his shoulder," Lydia explained, though sounding more miffed than concerned.

Dinah's brow raised in surprise. She didn't think Scott would be so strong to cause such damage. Well, a dislocated shoulder, while painful, was not that much damage. Not compared to a sprain or a break. Then Jackson_ really_ would've been out for the count. But that gave Dinah a little hope. If Scott was in control enough to not break anything, then he could control himself further.

"'That little freak?'" Dinah repeated, amused, a smirk pulling a corner of her lips upward.

Lydia sighed in frustration. "I don't care what he is! But I _cannot _condone him dislocating Jackson's arm."

Dinah pressed her lips together into a line while Allison shook her head a little playfully but also gently to try and placate her distressed friend.

"It _is_ a violent sport, Lydia, if not the most violent," she defended.

"Yeah, and what if we lose because our best player is benched?" Lydia asked, rounding on the two of them, her eyes daring either of them to contradict her.

Dinah raised an incredulous brow. "We lose?" she suggested.

"Exactly!" Lydia looked at Dinah and Allison expectantly, but the taller girls, glanced at each other questioningly before looking back to Lydia.

She sighed in exasperation, muttering to herself as she walked away. Dinah and Allison chuckled and promptly followed after their friend.

They parted ways and Allison and Dinah walked together to their first class, making it a minute before the bell would ring, laughing at a joke Dinah made about "Lydia Tantrums" as she had just named them, and continued giggling even after they were seated.

Just as the bell rang, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She sighed. She didn't want to deal with Stiles at that moment. She didn't want to see his face or even listen to his excuses. But, as he tapped on her shoulder a second time, this time a little more urgent, she took in a deep breath and slowly turned her upper body to face him, letting him see her reluctance to talk to him.

His hand was out stretched toward her, his face pale, his expression confused and uncomfortable. He withdrew his hand and winced, clearing his throat and scrunching up his face into an awkward grimace.

"Ah, um—" he started.

"What do you want, Stiles?" she demanded. She kept her expression neutral so that she wouldn't seem confrontational, but that he would just say what he wanted and that would be the end of it. But he started to stumble over his words.

"W-well, you see, I just wanted to let you know—well, me and Scott wanted to let you know that—okay, well, mostly I wanted to tell you—"

"Spill it already!" She demanded and relaxed, having noticed she had turned her body all the way to face him.

"I'm sorry," he said. His eyes were honest and regretful, but resigned. His lips pressed together into a thin line as he seemed prepared to say more, maybe even defend his position. But Dinah's heart seemed to start sinking, but upon noticing an emotion she didn't want to feel, she stopped feeling it. Her body relaxed, and her emotions had stopped running altogether.

_Hmm, this new control could be useful. _She thought. She was mildly surprised by the realization that she could bring up and put down any emotion that she wished, should she choose to do so.

At that moment, she didn't feel inclined to feel any.

She noticed that Stiles had started looking at her intensely, as though something about her exterior had changed. She tilted her head curiously at him, narrowing her eyes as she studied his honey browns.

He blushed for a reason she couldn't comprehend and dismissed it.

"I understand," she said. She turned her body to face the front.

Curtis had already started droning on about Kafka again and Dinah listened half-heartedly. She saw Scott turn around to share a look with Stiles. With her focus on the front of the class, she didn't see how Stiles responded, but Scott turned to glance at her from the corner of his eye. It didn't look hostile, only curious and concerned. He turned to face the front of the class again. It was the only time he looked at her that period.

The rest of the class went by so slowly that she felt her eyelids start to droop before suddenly the bell rang and they snapped back open. She quickly gathered her belongings, not bothering to look at either boy. It was pointless by that point. She stayed close to Allison until they left the classroom where they parted ways for their next classes.

When Dinah reunited with Allison before French class, she noticed a blazer on her arm. She tilted her head to the side.

"Is that the jacket from the party?" Dinah asked with a nod to her head, inclined toward said garment.

Allison frowned and nodded. "Yeah, I found it in my locker. I think Lydia might've put it there."

Dinah eyed it suspiciously, but didn't ask the question she wanted to ask. "You gave

Lydia the combination to your locker already?" she asked with an incredulous inflection.

Allison blushed and chuckled once. "More like coerced it from me. She all but threatened our friendship over it." She eyed Dinah with a little smirk. "Did she—"

Dinah chuckled. "No, she hasn't gotten it from me yet. But don't worry, I'll stand firm enough for the both of us," she said it like a joke, but was truly serious. She didn't want Lydia rifling through her locker to find her mini armory

But Dinah noticed something throughout her conversation. The emotions Dinah had let go of were coming back with her interactions with Allison. She was so good hearted that Dinah didn't mind feeling happiness around her. Even if it was more work for her state of being. When they parted ways, Dinah sighed wistfully, wishing some of her positivity would bleed into Dinah, or at least rub off on her.

She arrived at the classroom a few minutes before the bell rang, smiling softly to herself. Lydia eyed her suspiciously, having seen Allison walk in the other direction. But Allison seemed to enjoy having a friendship with a girl that could remain separate from Lydia's grasp. Dinah was honored that Allison chose her, but she knew that she was the only one in this school that could remain free of Lydia's hold over the sophomore and maybe even the older grades' populace.

Oh yeah, the experiment. Dinah remembered it a couple of minutes into the lecture. She was supposed to be measuring the rumors that were circulating around her through her peers, but she found herself focusing on friendships that she wasn't even supposed to develop.

Wasn't she supposed to be friends with Scott and Stiles? She was supposed to be their confidant so that they would trust her enough for her to trust them. So she could tell them her story.

Plans are so fallible. They fall apart too easily. Or rather, is it the person who set them more fallible? After all, isn't it the planner that is the fallible one? Plans are inanimate. They can't decide for themselves; they exist as a construct for humans to help them function.

So if humans construct them—fallible humans construct plans—then are not the plans fallible?

_Well then_,_ what is the POINT_?! She thought to herself, frustrated at the direction her thoughts had taken. Why was she even doing this experiment? For credits? Well, yes actually, but it wasn't necessary. She had done all this planning essentially for nothing because she was skewing the experiment.

She was supposed to stay detached.

So much for that.

But . . .

Should she quit?

It was so _tempting_—

"_Dinah!_" Her French teacher called, her name accented through the teacher's mild French accent.

Dinah's eyes snapped to the teacher. Mrs. Dubois was eyeing Dinah with a bit of frustration and wariness.

"_Oui, madame,_" Dinah said, surprised the chilling apathy that she voiced.

Mrs. Dubois frowned and swallowed, her eyes expressing fear.

_Fear?_ What was so frightening? By the way that she kept looking at Dinah cautiously, Dinah discovered that it was _her_ that made Mrs. Dubois chary. She glanced at Lydia next to her to find Lydia eyeing Dinah suspiciously, concerned, and a little disconcerted.

What happened? Did she speak aloud? Was there something wrong with her face?

Mrs. Dubois finally spoke. "_Je vous ai posé une question_," -_I asked you a question_. Dinah frowned as the instructor said it as though _she_ were asking a question.

"_Je suis désolé, je ne faisais pas attention. Quelle était la question?_" - _I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What was the question?_

Mrs. Dubois sighed and re-asked her question. "_Pendant que vous étiez en France, ce qui était l'essence de la culture française?_" - _While you were in France, what was the essence of French culture?_

Dinah raised her eyebrows. What a question.

"Um," she started. She gave a bullshit answer, but one that she hoped dissolved the sudden and weird tension in the air. "_Les baguettes?_" - _The baguettes?_ she said with a shrug and an uncertain, almost sheepish expression.

The fear fell from Mrs. Dubois's face as she rolled her eyes in exasperation and frustration. The rest of the class, while not exactly as well versed in French, still understood the word "baguette," it being a universal word and all. That being said, they were able to understand that Dinah was making a weak joke and started to snicker under their breaths.

Dinah relaxed as the tension dissolved as she intended. But she really didn't know how to answer that question.

Mrs. Dubois shifted her stance and waited expectantly for Dinah to answer seriously. Dinah swallowed down her discomfort before straightening to answer, a frown twisting her features as she forced her tongue to form the words and sentence so formally.. "_Je ne vivais pas en France assez longtemps pour obtenir une bonne compréhension de la culture._" - _I did not live in France long enough to get a good understanding of the culture._

Mrs. Dubois frowned and eyed her through narrowed eyes. Dinah got the next impression the Mrs. Dubois was trying to get a good read on the situation in order to determine her best course of action. This, too, surprised Dinah. She was a student. Why was a teacher doubting herself and questioning what to do with a student? What did Dinah do to make her teacher so cautious?

"How long did you live in France?" Mrs. Dubois asked in English, crossing her arms underneath her heavy and slightly drooping bust. Her tone was a little suspicious, but mostly curious. Dinah was surprised by the sudden shift into English.

"Um, just two-and-a-half months." she answered, feeling a little defensive.

What the hell was with this atmosphere? When the hell did it get confrontational? Was it her tactless comment about baguettes? Did the teacher think that Dinah didn't respect her? Because she was sure that she didn't do anything to suggest that she undermined Mrs. Dubois's authority.

Mrs. Dubois's eyes widened and brows raised in surprise and a little suspicion. "Oh. I thought you'd lived there longer," she said, sounding rather shocked at that bit of information.

Dinah frowned, now thoroughly confused. "Really?" she questioned wrinkling her nose in extreme confusion. "Why?"

Mrs. Dubois shrugged, but a blush in mild embarrassment started to creep onto her surprisingly smooth cheeks despite her age. "You speak French so well and I heard from somewhere that your family was there as escorts to the—"

"Okay—" Dinah interrupted. "—that was merely a rumor. I was there with my family while my dad was doing work. There was no escorting, no guarding of any leadership," Dinah clarified to the whole class, looked over them. Some snickered, others, the ones that believed the rumor, blushed. She turned back to Dubois. "And I speak French so well because it was the first language I learned. Despite not having lived in France yet."

Mrs. Dubois nodded in understanding and straightened, uncrossing her arms and turning to face the rest of the class and jibber-jabbering in French.

Well, that was weird. It wasn't the weirdest encounter she had with a teacher, but it was up there. So the teachers here were subject to the rumors that traveled around so quickly. She didn't even start that rumor. That one started on its own.

Dinah decided that she would still collect data for her experiment, just in case she decided to go through with it, choosing not to quit, but rather, put it on the backburner of her priorities oven. As soon as she did, she felt a mental wall lift, and suddenly she was free to think about other things. Like what to do about the idiots.

So they refused to get her involved, despite her already being technically involved. If Derek was coming to her workplace to talk to her about supernatural stuff, then she was most definitively and decidedly involved. There was no way around it and those two would have to accept it.

With her resolution determined, she set on a tenacious expression and waited quite impatiently for the class period to be over. Finally, the bell rang. Dinah hopped up and headed off to chemistry, her thoughts wandering over the events of the day before and what just happened in the classroom.

What happened in there? Okay, so she knew that she started thinking about plans and whether or not she should've kept them going, and then started derailing onto a tangent about the fallibility of human nature. Did she actually speak aloud? No, wait, Mrs. Dubois kept trying to talk to her, to get her attention, so Dinah was just spacing off. But was there something in her facial expression that made everyone nervous?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tenacious redhead.

"Dinah!" she called, and Dinah whirled to face her.

"Lydia!" she mimicked dramatically, a smirk crawling its way up her lips.

"What the hell happened in there?" Lydia demanded, expression furious about having to jog to catch up with her in heels, but also apprehensive about Dinah's potential answer. "'Cause it looked like you were planning murder." She clarified, walking alongside Dinah slowly, eyeing her out of her peripherals.

Dinah smirked. "And what if I was?" she challenged.

Lydia pursed her lips and raised a perfectly trimmed brow. "Then you better be prepared to do it alone, because there is no way I'm getting blood on these shoes," Lydia said petulantly. Dinah laughed a short, quick laugh before sobering enough to answer semi-seriously.

"I was contemplating the human condition and the flawed and necessary action that is planning."

Lydia stopped and Dinah stopped to look back at her. Lydia's expression was one of contemplation and disdain. "Well why were you making such an expression? It was so villainous that I thought you were seriously going to pull a gun out of that ridiculously large bag."

Dinah shrugged. "I don't know. I was just frustrated because all the plans I made for this year have already fallen to shit, and there's nothing I can really do to salvage them" She said, pressing her lips together in a line to punctuate her sentence, but then a smirk found its way back onto her lips. "And I'll actually pull the gun out _if and only if_ my life feels threatened. So no one was in danger today."

Lydia's eyes had gone wide before she stomped closer to whisper conspiratorially at Dinah. "_The_ gun? Like, you actually have a gun in your purse?"

Dinah laughed aloud at Lydia's expense, but at glancing to see Lydia's offended expression, Dinah softened the expression and tried to calm her laughing. "No, I don't actually have a gun in my purse. That would be stupid."

Lydia visibly relaxed and huffed in frustration before starting to strut down the hall. Dinah caught her hand before she could get too far.

"But I do have some in my locker, so I suggest _not_ trying to pry or get my combo." Dinah winked playfully as her smirk grew mischievous. Lydia paled at first, but then at Dinah's expression rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Ugh, you are so weird," Lydia said as she turned away, seeing Allison and approaching her steadily, and in the process grabbing an unsuspecting Lacrosse player. Dinah watched with narrowed eyes, furrowed brows and an incredulous grin. What was Lydia doing? She knew that Allison was into Scott, but the introduction she was giving, plus the calculating grin that occupied her face told Dinah that Lydia was up to something, and probably, something manipulative.

Dinah walked up to them slowly, her eyes scanning the situation carefully. Lydia casually glanced over her shoulder and returned to speaking with Allison and the player. It was meant to be inconspicuous, but Dinah was too clever to let Lydia get away with whatever ploy she was performing. Her eyes flitted down the hall to see a familiar face staring both longingly and suspiciously at the interacting trio.

"Yeah, totally," Allison was saying with a sweet smile on her face. The Lacrosse player she recognized as Johnson from the No. 20 jersey he usually wore. He was a decent looking guy, fairly attractive but boring, in Dinah's opinion. And Dinah came to the conclusion that Lydia discovered something about Scott. Did he already talk to Coach about not playing the game? Was this her incentive to get him to play?

_Really_? Dinah wouldn't have thought it would work, but considering the glare that Scott was sending Johnson's way, she supposed that it was successful. As expected of an expert manipulator. Lydia sent the Lacrosse player on his way and Scott reached them with a stiff spine and wary expression. Lydia stepped back and walked the other way, leaving Allison and Dinah to interact with the frustrated teen.

"So," Scott started, hesitant. "Lydia's introducing you to everyone?" Scott's eyes flickered to where Dinah stood distrustfully, but Dinah kept her expression neutral.

"She's being so unbelievably nice to me," she said in an awed and grateful tone, smiling at her sweetheart who relaxed under the levity of her good-heartedness.

"I wonder why. . ." he trailed off, not really offended anymore, but his sarcasm was a little sharp.

"Maybe she gets how much being the new girl can suck?" Allison suggested off hand, but Scott had already honed in on the fact that Allison had her jacket when she shouldn't have.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded, his countenance darkening, turning his glare at the situation on Allison who hadn't yet noticed Scott's tension.

"My jacket? It was in my locker. I think Lydia brought it back from the party. She has my combination, so—" Allison explained nonchalantly, but then, Scott interrupted

"Did she bring it back or somebody gave her the jacket?" He asked a little too forcefully.

Allison narrowed her eyes. "Like who?"

"Like Derek?" Scott suggested, tone darkening with the name. Allison started getting uncomfortable.

"Your friend?" she said with a curious tilt to her head, but shoulders hunching in memory of the night of the party.

"He's _not _my friend," Scott bit out, almost aggressively and Dinah rocked back at the force of his sentence in surprise, her brows nearly finding her hairline. "How much did you talk to him when he drove you home?"

Allison seemed a little weirded out by Scott's behavior and began eyeing him dubiously, glancing at Dinah every few seconds to gage her reaction. Dinah, on the other hand, had already realized that it wasn't Lydia that put Allison's jacket away. Allison had left wearing her jacket, and she remembered because Dinah explicitly told Allison to not put the knife in the jacket pocket.

Oh! Dinah's eyes went wide and she inhaled suddenly. She forgot to ask Allison for the knife back. Thinking it over, Dinah came to the conclusion that Allison needed it more than she did.

"What did you say?" Scott was saying, and by this time, Allison was more unsure about Scott's behavior than before. She looked thoroughly uncomfortable, and it probably didn't help that Dinah was carefully watching the interaction through narrowed eyes rather than offer Allison comfort.

"Er. . . I got to get to class—" She started, turning her body and walking away.

"Allison—"

"No, I _really_ gotta go," She said, and scampered off as fast as she could in those heels.

Dinah raised a brow as she watched her leave, feeling all positivity drain away as she left. She turned to observe Scott, who was glaring after Allison, but upon noticing Dinah's scrutiny, turned to fully scowl at Dinah with a furious expression.

Dinah tilted her head to the side.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped. Dinah pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow curiously. She understood that he didn't like her, but this was getting ridiculous. She chose to not answer him and ask a question of her own. One that possibly explained his foul mood.

"You talked to coach already, didn't you?" She watched his reaction carefully. He tensed and his glare intensified, but he seemed to give up on hating her, if only for a moment, because he relaxed and his glare turned into a dark, hopeless expression.

He sighed and nodded his head. "I almost forgot that you know," he said quietly. Dinah regarded him through narrowed eyes. He was confused, she concluded. His eyes kept glancing at her helplessly, as though he were considering asking for her help and insight, but he was hesitating, probably wondering if it were too late, and she had given up on trying to help them.

"Let me guess, he's making you play." Dinah faced him, forming a sympathetic expression on her face. She tried to feel pity for him, but despite her wanting to assist Scott and Stiles, it was more important to consider the dangers of his shifting and killing someone on the field. And in that moment, she decided she would do this not for Scott or Stiles, but for those not involved, for the innocents, or non-innocents as some cases may be, for those that didn't know any better.

It was like her mother had always said: "Unnecessary death causes unnecessary consequences."

Scott looked like he was going to be sick; his eyes were wild and lost. Obviously this subject matter was not helping, so she decided to change it, to get his mind re-centered.

Dinah pressed her lips together and nodded her head in the direction of their shared class, moving in that direction as he followed.

"I know what you were talking about," she said simply. Scott's head perked and he turned to look at her suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, tucking his thumbs behind his backpack straps.

"I mean, Allison left with her jacket on. I remember because I loaned her a throwing knife," she clarified.

Scott furrowed his brows and stared off into the distance in front of him, as though trying to remember something. "That's right. Stiles told me about that," He turned to face her, expression genuine. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Dinah shrugged. "She's my friend, too, you know. Just because you're her sweetheart doesn't mean you're the only one that can care about her," Dinah teased with a friendly grin.

Scott blushed and ducked his head. Dinah chuckled and the two of them continued in silence. The bustle of the other students quieted as the beginning of class approached. A few paces from the entrance to the classroom, Scott stopped, making Dinah pause and look over her shoulder questioningly at Scott.

He looked uncomfortable and contrite. "I'm sorry."

Dinah blinked and was taken aback. Where had that come from? Did he do something to offend her that didn't actually offend her because she was weird?

"Um, I forgive you?" She said, squinching up her face in confusion, turning her body to face his. "Can this wait? Because we have class in, like, a few seconds. . ."

Scott's expression was pained and unsure. His eyes moved around, occasionally finding hers for something, but she couldn't read what it was. He cleared his throat. "Uh, not really," he said, and tensed his shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug.

"Okay," she said, drawing out the second syllable. "What are you sorry for?"

Scott twitched uncomfortably and scratched at the back of his head before stepping closer to her, almost reaching her personal bubble.

He sighed before starting. "I'm sorry. I was a jerk. I was angry because I didn't know what was going on, and then you showed up and told me what was going on, but I didn't like it, so I tried shutting you down. But you wouldn't—" he sighed again, "—I wouldn't listen when you were right. You've been trying to help this whole time, and I just didn't want anything to do with you. Yeah, I think you shouldn't be involved, for your own safety, but, apparently you can handle yourself. And, personally—" A warm smile worked its way onto his face "—I think we need you. So, I'm sorry. And, thanks. I guess. . ."

Dinah felt a tingling warmth in her chest, and a smile began to form on her face. She couldn't help it. He was just so likeable. Like a puppy.

"Well, I forgive you." Dinah smiled a soft genuine smile at him. "Well, we're already late, but we kinda need to—"

Scott flushed and interrupted her by grabbing a hold of her shoulder and ushering her into Harris's class.

Dinah smirked at the prolonged contact, but it faded as Harris made a snarky remark about their tardiness. Dinah's eyes found Stiles' as his head shot up, eyes wide, making a move to stand, but seemed to remember that he was in class and could just get up and talk to his best friend and almost friend.

Dinah split from Scott to sit in her respective spot, due to it being the only option left, and looked back to Stiles who was worriedly watching both her and Scott, his eyes flitting between the both of them. When their eyes met again, he stopped and stared at her with a look of open curiosity and worry. She smirked and winked at him.

He visibly relaxed in his seat, but only most of the tension released from his shoulders.

Dinah let the smirk fall from her face, looking back to the front of the class.

Stiles was right. While her "disagreement" with Scott had ended, there was still a lot more to worry about: for one, Scott was forced to play on Saturday. And that was a big issue because that could mean death; two, Derek was off doing his own thing, and they didn't know if they could trust him; three, there was a werewolf monster running around in the middle of the woods that was not only killing people, but it was also turning people into werewolves.

Okay, it turned one person into a werewolf, but there was a distinct possibility that it was targeting other teenagers.

And finally, Allison's father, and possible her whole family, plus others, were werewolf hunters, that wanted to kill werewolves. And if they found out about Scott, they might try to kill him. And if they found out that he was interested in Allison, they would definitely kill him. No questions asked.

Dinah sighed and ran a hand through her hair, letting her fingers catch the snags and tangles, allowing the pain to bring her mind back to the present. Harris was still droning on, and for the moment she could trust school to remain constant.

Her pseudo-peace was interrupted by a vibration from her phone, signaling a text. Discreetly, she glanced at the dim screen.

It was from Reuben.

It read: _Dad needs more medication_.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

******I don't like this chapter, but it gets certain things into motion and helps establish Dinah's mindset, or rather mind-chaos. She's kind of all over the place, disjointed and disconnected, and I love it, but it's hard to read. Sorry about that. ******

******I hope you enjoyed it.******

******Till next time!******


	7. Lets Me See

**This chapter is a milestone. Every time I start a story, I always reach a point where I don't know what to write or I don't want to keep writing. This chapter was stuck behind the latter. But I did it. After nearly a year of an unofficial hiatus, I have finished this chapter. I don't know where I'll go from here. This is the first time I've persevered so hard to continue writing.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I have the sole rights to my OCs and only my OCs. Teen Wolf and everything therein is not mine.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

6\. Lets Me See

Dinah rested her head against the wall and sighed. She didn't particularly like the way the hospital smelled and made the conclusion that the only ones that could, would be the ones in uniform, be it either nurse or doctor.

She doubted even _they_ liked the scent.

It was too . . . chemical-ish. Acidic and basic.

She'd just signed the prescription form and would probably be waiting for twenty, even thirty minutes. Because her dad's prescription was special, there was a special procedure to get his meds, and depending on the line, it would wither take thirty minutes, or ninety.

There was no line that day.

Her mind wandered to the day's events and what that meant for her "friendship" with Scott and Stiles. Apparently, making friends with these boys without romantic context was stupidly difficult. Usually, people either naturally gravitated to her, or found a reason to completely hate her. These two did neither. They stuck to themselves, trusted no one. And then they somehow managed to involve themselves in the supernatural.

She marveled at the idea again.

The supernatural.

It was foreign territory in the most literal sense, and for a moment she couldn't help but believe in fate.

Fate was just an excuse to do something stupid or villains to justify their actions. Of course, heroes and villains didn't exist. Here, there were only people.

Human or not.

The phrase repeated over and over in her head, switching back and forth between putting emphasis on each word. _Human _or not. Human _or_ not. Human or _not_.

Human or _not_.

Human or _not_?

Human or _inhuman_?

_Not_ human?

_In_human?

Supernatural.

Super_natural_.

_Super_natural.

_Supernatural_.

"Hey, Lydia!" She was jolted out of her reverie by a familiar, nervous voice. She turned her head and found Stiles, trying—and failing—to hit on Lydia. Maybe "hit on" wasn't an apt description in this case. "You probably don't remember me. I sat behind you in biology." There was a pause. "Um, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection—" Dinah cringed, hoping to _God_ Lydia wasn't hearing any of this. "— unspoken, of course... Maybe it would be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better."

He sounded so hopeful and she suppressed her snicker. It was so awkwardly adorable. Which was not Lydia's thing, apparently.

Lydia's response was predictably harsh. "Hold on, give me a second. Yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?"

"No, sorry. I'm gonna si—you don't care," he said, thoroughly uncomfortable and awkward as he plopped into the seat next to Dinah's. He sighed before looking in her direction, and finally acknowledged her presence with a jump and a gasp.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed, glaring at her. "Don't sneak up on me like that,"

Dinah pressed her lips together to suppress her laughter.

"I was here first, Stiles," she said, and he opened and closed his mouth like a gawping fish while glaring at her in frustration. But then it faded to a look of apprehension.

"Y-you didn't just—" he started sheepishly, his pretty eyes going wide and then squinting.

She chuckled. "Let's just say, you better be glad Lydia didn't hear anything and leave it at that."

He groaned and leaned back against the wall, sinking into his chair.

Dinah suppressed her laugh at him before leaning toward him, and in a low voice said: "I have a feeling your being here is lycanthropy related."

Stiles's eyes shot to hers, then flitted around the area before leaning back to her.

"Scott went and visited Derek," he whispered.

"And?"

"He said he smelled blood. Old blood. Apparently there's something buried on his property."

"And what does this. . ." she trailed off, realizing what it was they were searching for. "You think it's the other half of the body," she breathed.

Stiles nodded solemnly, eyes sincere and worried.

"It's not Derek," she said bluntly.

"What do you mean, 'it's not Derek'? He buried the other half of the body on his property." Stiles was adamant again and started flailing his arms a little. Something, she noticed, he does mostly when he's impassioned.

"That's exactly why it wasn't him," she said definitively. At Stiles's strangled disbelieving gasp that left his mouth open, she continued. "Why would the killer bury the body on his property? That would make him the number one suspect."

"He _is_ the number one suspect," Stiles interjected, exasperated.

Dinah sighed. "Stiles, would you bury a body on your property?"

"No."

"Exactly. Derek probably did it because he knew her and felt sorry for her. So he gave her a 'proper burial.'"  
"Not likely. Last time I checked, burying someone in your backyard was _not_ a proper burial." Stiles protested, now fully facing her in his chair.

"Well, if she was a werewolf, he wouldn't want any mortician handling the body. It would be to keep the secret."

"Or, to hide the evidence." Stiles stubbornly set his jaw and leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Even pouted a little.

Dinah rolled her eyes, sitting back herself.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Stiles asked.

Dinah looked at him for a moment, pursing her lips and decided whether or not she wanted to tell him. Maybe it was a bit ill-advised, but she'd intruded on the boys' lives so much already. Perhaps giving a little information might be for the best. She'd already decided she wasn't going to lie to them.

"I'm picking up my dad's medication," she said. She left it at that, knowing he'd ask.

"Why you?"

Okay, not the question she was expecting.

"What?"

"Why are you picking it up? Isn't it law that it has to be the person who needs it, or something?" he asked, expression open and curious, if a little confused, his frustration at her completely forgotten.

She frowned. She wasn't sure actually.

"Maybe. Except for special circumstances?" she guessed.

"Like what?"

"Like a bed ridden elderly person?" she supplied. She had no idea if that was even a thing. Were the people taking care of the elderly given something that allowed them to pick up the elderly's meds?

"Are you saying your dad is frail and elderly?" Stiles's tone was doubtful, a skeptical smile had made it onto his face. It was a cute smile.

Dinah shook her head. "No, just that his circumstance is special."

Stiles's brows furrowed in confusion. "What kind of special?"

How to best answer this. . .

She leaned toward Stiles and whispered conspiratorially, "It's his paranoia medication."

Stiles's eyes went wide as he considered the information she just gave him. "He's . . ." She let him get there on his own. ". . . Paranoid?"

His face did this weird thing when making his expression: disbelief, surprise, apprehension, and a little fear all worked to show up on his face somehow. It was oddly charming, in an awkward way.

Dinah nodded. "It's a pain in the ass to deal with without his meds. At least, if he takes his meds, he's not locking me in the house or going on a rampaging episode."

Stiles looked absolutely terrified. His head turned to face the front slowly, staring off blankly.

Dinah snickered. "Lighten up. He's not gonna come after you or anything."

Stiles snapped his head back to look at her, his face scrunching up in sarcastic disdain. "Ha ha."

Dinah rolled her eyes. "Seriously. My dad's not dangerous. At least on his meds he isn't. He's very serious, stoic, and unwavering. Taught me everything I know. Well. . ." She considered the latter point, "Actually, he taught me a good bit of it; he didn't teach me everything. I _did_ have to go to school. And my mom took care of the language part."

Stiles expression had tamed to an odd expression. His eyes were focused on hers, searching, trying to find something. The scrutiny made her shrink back into her seat.

"What?" she asked, heat making its way to her cheeks.

Stiles shook his head. "I just feel like that should've told me a little more about you than it did."

Dinah stared. She supposed it _was_ a little vague. She shrugged. "You'll just have to see for yourself then." He looked like he was going to say more, but she interrupted. "So, what are you going to do?"

"What?" Stiles looked surprised and confused at her.

Dinah rolled her eyes at him. "If it _is _the other half of the body, what are you going to do?"

Stiles sighed. "We prove it was Derek."

Dinah groaned in frustration. "I keep telling you it's—you know what, never mind. How are you going to prove it's him?"

Stiles's eyes widened and he looked away conspicuously.

_Shit_. "No."

"What?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders to his ears and swiveling his head around to give her big, coppery, innocent eyes.

"No. No. No, you are not digging up the body."

"Who said—"

"Your silence did," She bit, glaring at him, and he shrank away.

"We have to do this. He's dangerous," he defended.

"So is Scott. Should we incarcerate _him_?"

"N-no!" he sputtered passionately. "Look, if it _is_ the other half of the body, that means Derek killed her and buried the other half of the body in his yard."

"Except he _didn't _kill her,"

"You don't know that," he said, raising his voice a little in exasperation.

"I _do_ know that," she argued.

"_How_?" he barked sharply, his voice a yell in frustration. At the turning of heads of bystanders, he flushed and shrank in his seat toward her. "How do you know that?" he asked in a desperate whisper.

Dinah sighed, leaned toward him, and matched his volume. "Whatever it was that bit Scott, is _not_ Derek. Derek didn't kill that girl."

"But how can you be so sure it isn't Derek?" he asked desperately.

Dinah pressed her lips together, considering her answer. This had to be handled delicately, or Stiles would be less inclined to trust her.

"You know the thing visited me at work, how I said I _felt_ its presence?" she implored, hoping he would accept this as her answer. He frowned, pressing his brows together, but nodded, urging her to continue. "Derek doesn't have the same energy as the thing. As that monster werewolf. Not even in the same ballpark."

Stiles scoffed. "So, we're supposed to place the safety of Beacon Hills on your _feelings_?" Stiles said sarcastically.

She glared furiously. At her look, he shrank away from her, and had the audacity to look a little contrite.

"Yes." Her answer made him throw up his arms in exasperation.

"What makes your intuition so damn trustworthy that we _have_ to listen to it?" he demanded.

She didn't know how to answer, so she stayed in frustrated silence.

"That's right," Stiles said indignantly to no one in particular and snatched up the closest reading material, just in time for him to watch Jackson approach his girlfriend. Dinah could barely hear their conversation from this distance with their hushed tones, so she didn't bother. Lydia was probably telling Jackson to go ahead and take some shots before the game, considering her obsession with being the girlfriend of the _winning_ Lacrosse team captain and her sauntering body language.

"Hollinger," one of the nurses called, making Dinah's head snap in attention to the pretty, young nurse who'd called her name. The nurse looked at her expectantly and Dinah stood, approached the desk, and signed the waiver saying it was picked up.

She stashed the little white bottle into her bag as she turned to face Stiles, catching Scott's eye in the process, who looked like a deer caught in headlights when he saw her, but the expression fell when he must've remembered their conversation from earlier.

He nodded to her, she nodded back snapping her purse back together. Stiles watched Lydia and Jackson walk away as Scott came up to them and snatched the menstrual cycle pamphlet from Stiles's hands, who jumped in surprise and exclaimed: "H-holy _God_!"

Scott was urgent. "The scent was the same."

Stiles's eyes went wide and he stood quickly. "You sure?"

"Yes," Scott sounded tired, and a little despaired.

Stiles threw up one of his hands and said, "So he did bury the other half of the body on his property." Near the end he gave Dinah a pointed look.

Scott looked at Dinah as well. "Which means we have proof he killed the girl."

Dinah sighed and gave an exaggerated eye roll, but arguing with these boys wasn't getting her anywhere, and she was starting to agree with them.

"I say we use it," Stiles said, starting to walk toward the entrance, a determined look on his face. Scott and Dinah started to follow as Scott said:

"How?"

"Tell me something first," Stiles started, rounding on them suddenly. "Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?"

"Wait wait wait wait wait," Dinah interrupted. "How are you guys going to prove it was Derek?" she asked in genuine concern and confusion, her eyes flitting between the two boys.

Scott gave her his most genuine puppy dog eyes. "There are bite marks on the legs, Dinah, bite marks."

"Of what exactly?" She exasperated. "Were they human bite marks or wolf bite marks?" She searched the boys' eyes for any sign that she was getting through to them. Scott maybe, Stiles was narrowing his eyes at her in thought. "Because unless he wolfs out in front of the cops, there is no way you can prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that Derek is the killer."

"Look," Scott started, eyes sincere, voice desperate. It made Dinah a little uncomfortable. "If we don't do this, the murder stays where it is. If it _is_ Derek, he's a murderer. And we can't take that chance."

Stiles stepped forward, a little more intense than before. "We have to do _something_, Dinah," he said, and Scott nodded, and then both boys were giving her a pleading, determined expression.

Dinah sighed in defeat. "Fine, don't listen to me. Go dig up the body. It's not going to prove anything." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave them both a disapproving glare.

"You're not coming with us?" Stiles pressed forward, almost getting in her face.

"As much as I'd _love_ to help make sure Derek doesn't dig two more graves, I have to get my dad's medication home."

Scott tilted his head to the side and his eyes scrunched up in confusion. "Medication?"

Dinah waved his question off. "Don't worry about it. Be careful tonight. Alright?"

The boys nodded, and they started off toward the entrance. "Alright, let's go get us some shovels," she heard Stiles say. She smirked at his back and headed in the same direction, losing herself in her thoughts.

She kind of hoped Derek caught them, just to give them a little shaking up. But mostly, she hoped he'd be gone for the night. Despite Dinah being pretty sure he didn't kill the girl, he wasn't so sure he'd leave Scott and Stiles intact.

And then, there was the possibility that Derek _did_ kill the jogger in the woods. Derek being the killer was an idea that made her cringe. He knew where she worked. Not that she couldn't handle it. But still.

There was too much cognitive dissonance in her mind to allow the thought of Derek being the killer. Derek and killer didn't really go together well in her head.

And Stiles was right. What made her intuition so damn trustworthy? Why did she feel so strongly about this?

But then if it _was_ Derek—_eugghh_—then that meant they knew where to start to stop him, _if_ he were to murder again.

Dinah's shoulder collided with someone else's, sending papers flying and a pain shoot through her. God! Were they made of cement? Geez!

Hissing as she rubbed her shoulder to rid of the pain, Dinah bent to help the _woman_, oddly enough, scramble to pick up the fallen papers.

"Sorry," Dinah murmured sincerely. After all, she hadn't been looking where she was going.

The woman laughed gently, and in a smooth, sultry kind of voice, replied, "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Dinah looked over to her to get her first good look at the friendly woman and froze.

Her features were eerily similar to Dinah's. Granted, the features were different enough that Dinah could see that she was entirely her own person, completely unrelated to Dinah or her family.

The only striking similarities were their smooth fair skin, the blackness of their hair, and the vibrancy of their blue eyes. And while Dinah considered herself to be pretty, the woman before her was stunning.

Where they differed was the sharpness of the woman's facial features and angles where Dinah' were softer, not yet refined by age—though this beauty could be no more than twenty-four, she had an ancient, and full of wisdom feel about her. Her long black hair was straight—Dinah figured it reached behind her knees—where Dinah's shoulder length locks were a barely manageably curl that she had somehow figured how to get to wavy and stay there for a few hours.

Dinah wanted to believe her perfectly manicured features were just that, _perfectly manicured_, because it was ridiculous how beautiful this woman was. But Dinah could barely discern any make-up on her face. She was well-groomed, sure, but still.

The woman smiled at Dinah, a small close-mouthed smile, that just for a moment, made Dinah's heart skip a beat and make her blush.

_Ridiculous_.

Dinah handed back the papers she retrieved off the floor, and the woman said, "Thank you," and Dinah blushed again. She nodded and turned to leave.

"You're a dancer, aren't you?" she said and Dinah froze again. She looked back at the woman suspiciously. "I could tell by the muscle definition in your legs, arms and shoulders," she explained.

_She's oddly observant_. Dinah nodded. "You're right."

The woman's open smile was dazzling. She held out her hand. "My name is Jeminah. Call me Jem."

Dinah hesitantly reached out to take her hand. Despite the odd attraction she had to Jem, she didn't get butterflies, nor did her heart race when their hands touched. Rather, Dinah was surprised.

Jem's hand tingled a little against hers and Dinah felt a rush of cold energy surge through her body. She felt stronger, more aware, like she could sense everything around her. Even stranger, when they released hands, the energy remained. It didn't even start to fade.

Jem was pulling out a card when Dinah came back to the present awareness. It turned out to be a business card for a dance studio.

"You should check it out. We would love to have you," Jem said.

Dinah looked back up to Jem's eyes, and found them smiling warmly at her. Dinah nodded and put the card away. Jem nodded as well and turned to leave, going the direction she'd been going. Dinah stared after her before exiting the hospital.

The more Dinah thought about it, the more she found the whole occurrence strange.

_What the hell _is _this energy_? Dinah found herself asking in her head. The weirdest part about it was that it was so _cold_. Energy should be warm, _right?_

* * *

It was the next day and the weird, cold energy was still going through her system. And it was freaking her out. It didn't even fade when she made her way home. She went to sleep, and slept more soundly than she thought she ever slept. Woke up feeling so ridiculously refreshed it made her lay there and ponder how in the world she could feel that good. And then noticed that she could feel that energy roiling within her.

She had made her way to school just fine. Drove better than she usually did. Joseph stared at her oddly the whole time, seeming to have noticed her odd demeanor, but didn't comment. When she met the boys at English, she nodded and smiled, but it was time start class so she couldn't talk to them.

She took the time during class to analyze the energy given to her.

It had a tendency to move. It roiled, swirled as though impatient. It wanted action, it wanted physical release.

_Well, what the hell was she supposed to do about that?_ It frustrated her, not knowing her own body like this.

A tap on her shoulder distracted her from her thoughts. It was Stiles, who was staring at her with big, concerned eyes.

"You alright?" he asked.

Her eyes scanned over his face for a moment. She'd never seen his emotions so clearly before. It was as though they were displayed without any filter or mask. The genuine sincerity of his moods surprised her. She had a feeling that he'd always been this way, but she'd only just noticed it in that moment, with her mind working so clearly through the mysterious energy.

Still, talk about wearing hearts on sleeves. It was incredible how much emotion he managed to fit into one expression: concern, worry, apprehension, curiosity, nervousness. He was concerned for _her_, worried about his friend, probably nervous about whatever they found at Derek's house, curious and apprehensive about her condition.

"Dinah?" he asked again, his brows furrowed further as his dark amber eyes flitted over her face and shoulders.

"I'll tell you later," she whispered. He nodded, still unsure. She turned to face the front of the class.

The rest of the day passed quickly, yet slowly at the same time. The classes seemed to go on forever, but when the bell rung, signalling the end of class, it was sudden and surprising, sooner than expected. It made her question how fast time was really going.

When she met Allison and Lydia, they too noticed something was off about her, but at Dinah's dismissal, they dropped the issue and continued their banter.

By the time she sat down to eat with the boys, she'd come to terms with the strange energy.

So when Stiles eyed her oddly for a moment and asked, "So, about earlier. . ."

She looked up at him with wide eyes and brushed him off. "No, I'm okay. Everything's fine."

Scott looked between the two of them, confused. "What happened?"

Stiles gave him a funny look and an awkward shrug and turned back to Dinah. Now both of them were staring at her expectantly.

"Well, it's hard to explain, and I'm not sure it's really relevant at this point."

Scott and Stiles exchanged a glance before centering their entire attention on her. Their prying eyes made her a little uncomfortable and she pulled her shoulders in to her body a little more.

"What?" she asked them, incredulous.

"Hey, you said you'd tell us the truth," Stiles accused.

"Yes, but I didn't say I'd tell you everything,"

"Well, if you're going to butt-in to our lives, we're going to get involved in yours." Scott's tone was entirely certain and steady. His eyes met hers unwaveringly and sincerely. Stiles nodded in assent.

Dinah was blown away by their sense of loyalty. She'd not known them even two weeks and already they were invested in her. Not that she wasn't invested in them. She just didn't expect them to reciprocate so soon.

Their intensity about her wellbeing made her blush.

"Well, something odd happened to me and I don't know how to explain,"

"What kind of odd?" Scott asked, taking a bite of his lunch.

She struggled for words. "Well, I . . . Well, after you guys ran off without me last night, I ran into someone that might be of the supernatural."

The boys stilled. "What do you mean? What kind of supernatural? Like "killer-werewolf" supernatural?"

"No! That's the weird part. I don't even think she was even something recorded or known."

"I don't get it," Scott said, and Stiles shook his head beside her.

"Here's where it's weird: I ran into her, like literally ran into her, and her shoulder was like concrete. Weird number one. Number two, she was really observant—she knew I was a dancer just by my muscle build which was hidden behind clothing. Weird num—"

"You're a dancer?" Stiles interrupted, brows screwing together in a perplexed expression.

"Yes. Irrelevant. Now weird number three is that when I shook her hand—and I don't really know if you'll get this—but when I shook her hand, it was like a surge of energy rushed from her body to mine. And this energy. . . It doesn't feel like anything I've ever felt before. It's—it's cold, and dark, and it seems to move, almost, like it shifts throughout my body. It's centered in my core, but it keeps extending outward to my mind and when I move. I think it wants a physical outlet, but I don't know what will happen if I do that."

When she was done, she took a deep breath and looked at Scott and Stiles for their evaluation. They looked just as confused as she was.

"Cold energy?" Stiles said doubtfully, as though he were trying out the words for himself. "How can you even feel regular energy? If that's even a thing. . ."

"Well, when you're caffeinated, you can feel it right? It comes across as a sense of hyperalertness and then shifts to jitters and twitches," The boys nodded. "And when you're on the lacrosse field, you can feel the adrenaline in a faster heartbeat, and heavier breathing, again, hyperalertness. Well, this . . . I don't know. I don't feel cold, physically, but I feel hyper alert—extremely hyper alert—but not jittery. Actually, I'm ridiculously calm and level-headed right now. But I feel like I could go punch through a wall just because I have the potential energy to do so. Or I could go run a marathon just for the hell of it. And I swear, I can feel your heartbeats through the seats of this flimsy bare-metal table, and it would normally freak me out if I hadn't gotten so used to it by now."

"So. . ." Stiles started.

"So," she restarted with a huff, "In layman's terms, I feel like I should be bouncing off the walls right now, but because the energy is 'cold' I don't feel that I need to."

They stared at her with blank expressions for a moment.

"Nope, still don't get it," Stiles said, turning back to his lunch.

"Didn't think you would."

"Well, why'd you try?" Stiles asked with a little frustrated flurry of his hand.

"Because you asked!"

Stiles and Scott shook their heads and went back to their lunches.

"What about you two? What did you find last night?"

Their reaction—suddenly freezing and looking at each other worriedly—made her think they were hoping she wouldn't ask.

Scott sighed and put the bite he was about to take down.

"We found it," Stiles said. "It was the other half."

Dinah frowned. "I thought we'd already established that,"

Scott leaned forward, looking at her intensely. "She was a werewolf." Dinah gave Stiles a meaningful glare and he rolled his eyes. Scott continued, ignoring the exchange. "But she was different."

Dinah narrowed her eyes, lifting her next bite of her salad to her mouth. "Different how?"

Stiles interjected excitedly."Well, when we dug up her body, it wasn't her at first. It was a wolf. _She _was a wolf. Like a full on wolf. Except, of course, with half of her body missing. But she had black fur, fangs, claws, everything,"

"You can't do that?" Dinah asked Scott, scrunching up her face in confusion.

Scott looked at her oddly. "What? No,"

"Don't give me that look. You two idiots decided to keep that from me when you thought it was a good idea to try and force me out of this." She accused with a pointed finger. Scott and Stiles cringed.

"Sorry about that," Scott said, flashing his puppy eyes at her. "Again."

"Yeah. Uh-huh." She grinned at him to reassure he was forgiven.

"Anyway," Stiles continued impatiently, "What was weirder was the way Derek buried her."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She was buried in the center of a spiral, and at the outer end of it was, get this, _wolfsbane_."

"No way," she said, brows raising.

"Yeah. And when I removed the spiral and the wolfsbane, she turned back into a human." Stiles finished, face flushed in excitement, but eyes wide in something akin to fear. Trepidation, maybe?

"So, wolfsbane forces the change," she surmised, but the boys moved past that very relevant piece of information.

"Yeah, and I'm calling it in after school," Stiles said.

Dinah groaned and rolled her eyes. "I'm telling you, it wasn't him."

"She was buried in his backyard," Scott said calmly, rationally. Pleadingly.

"It's pretty damning evidence, Dee," Stiles said. Dinah paused and stared at Stiles through narrowed eyes.

"Dee?"

His expression fell to an uncertain one. "—nah?"

She shook her head. "I like it." A small smile started to form on her lips. Stiles started to smile in return.

"Guys," Scott interrupted, and both heads snapped back to face him. "Can we focus?"

Dinah glared. "On what? How you're going to prove Derek is the killer with faulty evidence? Or the fact that he may be the only one to help you with your condition tonight?"

The boys paled. Dinah smirked smugly.

"Didn't think of that one, did you?"

Stiles flailed, unceremoniously impatient. "We told you! We have to do _something_!"

Dinah rolled her eyes. "I know! But really, you guys haven't thought this through."

"We've thought it through enough," Scott said with finality. "I'll figure it out tonight. " Scott leaned forward and gazed imploringly into her eyes. "I know what will happen if I lose control. But I _have_ to play that game tonight—"

"No, you really don't," she interrupted.

"Dinah! Please. Help us with this."

Her eyes were caught on his. His stare was so intense. He was asking for her help. For _her _help. She knew what he was asking, for her to help distract people from seeing him if he wolfs out on the field. Help Stiles get onto the field so that he can try and get Scott off of it.

God! How was she supposed to say "no" to a face like that?

She sighed. "I'll go with you tonight when they arrest Derek. And I'll be there at the game."

Scott pressed his lips together in a strained smile. "Thank you, Dinah."

She scoffed ruefully. "Just be glad it's not a full moon tonight. Then we'd really have our hands full."

* * *

The ride in Stiles's jeep was quiet and tense, but not awkward. They were all apprehensive about the whole ordeal, Dinah supposed.

To his word, Stiles called in the buried body, and they were called in to be on sight witnesses, show the investigators where the body was and all. Even though Dinah hadn't been a part of finding the body, Scott asked her to be there in case something went wrong. She guessed he took to heart that she said she could handle herself physically. And maybe he thought she had her knives with her.

Well, he wasn't entirely wrong. She had her combat knife in her bag, but no little knives attached to her like they were at the party.

Regardless, she was there with them, for whatever reason. Her mind wandered on the way there. The few words the boys might have spoken were lost on her. Her focus was on what they would find.

Was Derek really guilty?

Should she hope he was guilty, just to solve the mystery?

Should she hope he wasn't? He truly didn't seem the type to commit murder. She might not have had much experience with murders, but she'd seen the look of a murderer before. He didn't have it.

_He didn't have it_.

He was innocent.

_Something_ was telling her he was innocent. But _what_? What voice in her head kept telling her that Derek was innocent? And why was it so damn convincing?

When they arrived, the police were already unearthing the rotting torso.

Dinah frowned and narrowed her eyes?

_What happened to the spiral of wolfsbane that Stiles was talking about_?

As soon as the jeep was parked, the three were pulled aside for questioning. At least until the cops realized that Dinah was just an outside third party, and focused their attention on the boys who, oddly enough, had already prepared a story for how they found the body. All traces of lycanthropy erased from the plot.

The investigators took notes. Dinah leaned back against the front of the Jeep. The boys' stories corroborated with each other's. By then, the body had been put into the body bag and sped away from the seen to the coroner's office.

Scott headed her way, Stiles went off with another officer.

Confused, Dinah looked to Scott.

"Where's Stiles going?" she asked.

Scott shrugged, eyes going wide in innocent ignorance. "I don't know. They probably figure we're hiding something from them."

Dinah cocked her head to the side, brows furrowing. "Why?"

Scott shrugged again, laughing a little indulgently. "Maybe because the Beacon Hills police force and Stiles are all on first name bases? They are all pretty much aware of how much trouble he can get himself into," Scott said, leaning against the jeep next to her, glancing to where Stiles had walked off.

Dinah snorted. "How much trouble can one boy get into?"

Scott shook his head and laughed. "Well, not as much as you'd think, with all the attention he gets. It doesn't help that he's the Sheriff's son."

_Oh_.

That explained it. Dinah _had _subconsciously noticed the sly, irritated, knowing glances the force kept sending Stiles as he walked passed. Some were more disparaging than others.

And there it was; Halting their conversation was Derek being escorted to the Sheriff's car, hands handcuffed behind his back, sour expression on his face.

Dinah's chest cavity started throbbing in anxiety.

There was something very _not right_ about all this.

She inexplicably hated this. She could feel her expression tense as the officers shoved Derek into the back seat. And then felt her body tense when she watched Stiles approach the Sheriff's car, stealthily sliding into the front seat. Scott groaned and turned toward her, covering his face in embarrassment. Dinah had to look over his shoulder to see into the car.

She could only see their figures. Their faces were obscured by the frame of the car and the angle of the parked car.

Out of nowhere, the Sheriff appeared and dragged his son out of the car pulling him by his arm, right under his armpit and leading him away to reprimand him, she supposed. Stiles was released from his father with a wave of the Sheriff's hand and Stiles shuffled back to the jeep, rubbing the back of his buzzed head awkwardly.

"You gotta reconsider playing that game tonight," he said. He rounded to the driver's side and Dinah followed. She frowned. What did Derek say to him that he was back to that spiel?

Stiles held open the door so she could clamber into the back seat past Scott.

"I told you," Scott started, "I'm playing that game tonight."

Stiles pulled forward toward the road. "Yeah, yeah. For now start looking up wolfsbane and burying rituals."

"Already on it," Dinah announced. She already had her phone out and started doing the research on wolfsbane.

"I'm serious Stiles. If I'm going to live a normal life, I have to live it normally." Scott pleaded impatiently.

"Well, it's not going to be all that normal if you shift on the field," Stiles pressed.

Dinah narrowed her eyes at the screen. "Did Derek tell you something?"

A pause.

"What?"

"Why are you bringing this up now? I thought we'd already established that Scott is too stubborn to not play that game." Her question was directed at Stiles.

"Wait, what?" Scott turned around to face her, glaring suspiciously.

She shrugged. "We didn't actually discuss it. We realized that after coach wouldn't give you a free pass, you were going to play no matter what. And you're surprisingly stubborn." She shrugged again for effect. Her eyes shifted the back of Stiles's head. "So? What did Derek tell you? In the car?"

Scott looked at his best friend. Stiles's shoulders tensed and then he shrugged with forced nonchalance. "Nothing he hasn't said before." He rolled his shoulders. "Anyway, have you found anything yet?"

She sighed. "Nothing,"

"Just keep looking. Maybe it's like a ritual or something, like maybe they bury you as a wolf," Stiles started with a hint of eagerness. Or was it urgency? He directed his questions to Scott this time around. "Or maybe it's like a special skill, you know? Like something you have to learn."

"I'll put it on my to-do list, right underneath figuring out how the hell I'm playing this game tonight."

Dinah's eyes went wide. "Wait, so you decided you're going to play and you don't even have a game plan?" her voice started to raise.

Scott glared over his shoulder. "I'm working on it!"

Dinah rolled her eyes as he turned away.

"Maybe it's different for girl werewolves," Stiles continued, either ignoring or trying to diffuse the tension steadily building.

"Okay! Stop it!" Scott commanded. Dinah watched Scott warily. His sudden outburst put

her nerves and reflexes into overdrive. Her body was sensing danger and it was telling her it was coming from Scott.

Stiles was oblivious. "Stop what?"

"Uh—"

"Stop saying 'werewolves'! Stop enjoying this so much!"

"Are you okay?" Dinah asked, shrinking back into her seat. He was shifting. Holy shit he was shifting in the car with her in it. She watched as his cagey energy was starting to burst.

"No! No, I'm not. I'm so far from being okay."

"You know, you're gonna have to accept this, Scott, sooner or later." _Why the hell was Stiles so nonchalant?_

"I can't," Scott protested, folding in on himself.

"Well you're gonna have to." _Seriously! He isn't noticing this?_

"Stiles—"

"No! I can't breathe!" Scott's hand shot up to punch the ceiling of the jeep. Startled and a little afraid for her life, Dinah gripped the seat in front of her and reached to her bag for her knife. Stiles worked to keep the jeep on the road from the force of Scott's punch. "Pull over!"

"Why? What's happening?" Urgency was finally making its way into Stiles's voice.

"Just pull over!" Dinah commanded.

Scott looked into Stiles's backpack. "You kept it?!" Scott glared at Stiles accusingly and incredulously.

"Kept what?"

"What was I supposed to do with it?" Stiles protested. Dinah finally got a glimpse of a purple flower.

"Wait, the wolfsbane? You frickin' kept the _wolfsbane_?!"

"Stop the car!" Scott roared. It was inhuman and Dinah got a glimpse of glowing yellow eyes. Stiles slammed his brakes shooting Dinah forward. Scott was already bolting out the door. Stiles grabbed his backpack and flew out the other way.

Dinah ripped her way through the driver's door, just to watch Stiles through his bag as hard as he could into the forest.

"Okay!" Stiles started, placing his hands on his hips. "Okay. We're good, you can— Scott?"

Stiles eyes met hers for a moment. She shook her head. The passenger door was wide open, still swinging from the force that Scott had used to open.

Emotions that had escaped her in the moment of danger came rushing back in tandem: apprehension, uncertainty, nervousness, worry, anxiety, fear.

She became lightheaded and the world tipped backward for a moment and was grateful she hadn't strayed too far from the jeep. Its sturdy frame caught hers with a light thud.

"Great," she said, a little breathless. "We lost our werewolf."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**I hoped you liked it. **

**Review if you so wish.**

**Till next time!**


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